War on the 85th Floor

Chapter 1:

Cramped between bed and brick, atop dirty clothes and only god knows, stood a short, young and shapely brunette woman. Her name was Jennifer, and she was in quite a bit of hurry, dashing this way and that -- taking not her time, nor sipping slowly at her steam-topped tea. No, instead she was applying her makeup with one hand, all the while trying to stuff those items she might need for the day into her purse. She had to be prepared -- had to be ready, for it was a big day. A day Jennifer had been planning for, and working towards, for the last 379 days, as far as she was able to count it. Her journey began as few do, with the reading of an interview posted on a popular men's blog, one with a reputation for less than subtle content.

The subject was not just one man, but two: Aston and Bennett Bowman. They held the distinction, and blessing of being a pair of incredibly handsome twin brothers, who just so happened to also be the co-CEO's of Bowman international, a quickly growing, and world renowned technology firm. Their company began, as most computer startups do, in Silicon Valley. They had grown, through the application of sustainable ambition and millennial savvy, to heights most companies never reach, and did so faster than any firm had ever done before. The key however, to the interview, was that their company's rise was in their minds just beginning, and in fact, was about to embark on the building of a new headquarters in downtown New York. That plan, as the article read, was not undertaken because it was a business necessity, or because it was what the bottomline dictated, but instead, because it was a challenge. A new mountain to climb. A new sea to master. And though talk of brilliant business maneuvers and roars of unchecked bravado laced almost every question, and answer, Jennifer fixated on just the smallest of tidbits, set adrift somewhere near the end of the article.

Interviewer: "And ... uh ... you two are good looking guys. You've got the world at your fingertips, and happen to be single. What can the ladies of New York expect? What are your tastes. Who will be your prey, when you arrive in the city that never sleeps?"

Austin: "Well I have to say, as different as Bennett and I are, we have basically the exact same taste in women."

Bennett: "You could say it has gotten us both into more than a few fights."

Austin: "A couple."

Bennett: "Black eyes... No, i'm kidding. Actually maybe I'm not, didn't you...?"

Austin: "Let's just answer his question, B. We like short, thick, brunettes."

Interviewer: "How thick? Big breasts? Big butts?"

Bennett: "Thick thighs, big butt, huge breasts, and a tight tummy. Ariel Winter is a good example. Her and I broke up, but she was perfect."

Austin: "Yeah, she was."

Bennett: "See, that's where the black eyes came in."

Like manna from heaven, the description came down to Jennifer, who had for years and years held the most obsessive of crushes on Austin. He had, or more accurately, they had, described HER. They wanted HER. She was their dream girl. It was enough to have made her squeak and squeal, and in fact she did both upon reading those glorious words set to screen.

As her glee settled into sanity, and hope turned to hunger, the young woman decided that she had to meet them, or more specifically HIM -- had to put herself in Austin's life, and earn his heart and hand. Not because he was rich, but because she felt, honestly, that she loved him. They say a picture is worth a thousand words, and Jennifer had spent hours, weeks to be truthful, googling pictures of her muse, and then Bing-ing the same, just in case there was a difference in what came back. She would watch YouTube videos, and attend business lectures he gave, at the latter hoping for a chance encounter or a Cinderella reenactment, though neither ever came.

All of that seemed like nonsense now, as a plan, a real plan took shape in her mind. One that she enacted without delay, hitting the gym religiously, not to lose weight, but to forge her body into something Austin could not resist. "Ariel Winter who?" She would make him say. And whilst she worked out, she worked up, doing her best to improve her resume, so that we're she to apply to the new building being built, she'd have a better chance of being hired.

Finally, the day had arrived, and Jennifer, now dressed to kill, and built to beguile, walked out her door and into the crisp New York air, ready to bag herself the man of her dreams.

Her optimism, however, quickly faded, as the elevator door opened at the 85th floor, and revealed just how steep her competition would be. Women -- seas of women, each dressed to impress, and bearing enough cleavage to draw even the Pope's eye, sat, stood, and strolled, waiting for their turn to meet with Austin and Bennett. Despite her rapidly declining confidence, Jennifer checked in, found he last available seat, and began waiting. Minutes, hours, days it felt like passed, and still she had not been called. Then suddenly, when she had almost given up hope, the brothers, each wearing the most expensive of suits, and most earned of smirks, walked out of their offices and surveyed the remaining crowd. They both seemed to catch on something that interested them, one on either side of the room. They whispered and pointed towards Jennifer's seat, then across the floor to another girl, who Jenn could not see. Jenn felt it was her time -- time for her to finally get her chance! She was certain they were about to call her name, and even stood to make the required traversal as quick as possible! But, just as a smile took to her beautiful plump lips: disaster.

Austin: "We have found our personal assistants, ladies. Thank you all so much for coming, but there won't be anymore interviews."

Bennett: "Yeah, we really appreciate all of your interest. Feel free to apply for the other jobs that we will be announcing in the near future. We need a good team here, and really have to fill all these floors with people, so ... don't get discouraged."

The words, though calm and kind, struck a cold nausea into Jennifer's stomach -- a feeling which twisted and turned as one girl after another passed by her. They left, one by one -- in groups -- each commenting on how upset they were that they didn't get a chance to interview. They were like ghosts to the brunette, who remained seated, lost on the verge of tears. Finally she mustered the strength to stand, but made it only to the on-floor bathroom, where she decided to hide herself in a stall and cry. Her sobbing continued, and hardened, robbing her of breath and balance, forcing her to sit, to avoid falling. How could she not have even gotten a chance? This was supposed to be! She thought to herself. But even as they swirled and swelled, the bitter questions she couldn't answer and agony she couldn't quell were interrupted, when Jenn heard the sound of another person crying in the stall next to her -- another woman.

Jennifer wanted to stifle her own sobs, as to not bother, something she imagined the other weeping woman would worry about as well, but neither could. And so locked together in sadness, but in separate stalls, on opposite sides of a knuckle-thin marble wall, they cried, each taking some comfort in knowing that they were not alone in their pain.

After about 40 minutes, both Jennifer and the mystery woman had gathered themselves enough to leave their stalls. As they each exited their stall, their gazes locked on to one another in the wall mirror in front of them, each allowing themselves to study the other's tear-glistened eyes, each softened by empathy, and silhouetted by wild smears of black eye shadow. And though there was something felt and conveyed in the moment, whatever it was found itself brought to an abrupt end, as both women found themselves once again overcome by sadness and embarrassment, which forced each of them to look away from the other. In that silence, they stood for only a moment, as they adjusted their clothing, and did what they could to wipe off running and ran mascara.

Then, having collected themselves as best they could, the two women began their walk of shame, side by side, heading towards the exit of the bathroom, still not having spoken a single word. Whilst on that trail of tears, neither could help but notice that the other looked nearly identical to themselves, in terms of hair color and length, breast size and build, and even in terms of dress, both having wore the tightest blue dress they could find, matched with a near criminally short skirt.

Despite their similarities, or perhaps because of it, they each decided to go their separate ways, intentionally taking different elevators, to avoid any discussion of what just happened.

Some hours passed, and Jennifer, intent on drinking away her disappointment, found herself at her favorite local watering hole, the "169 Bar" on East 169th Street. Before her sat 4 empty shot glasses, and two more ready to be so emptied. Her head hung, not just from the alcohol, or her exhausting bout of crying earlier, but from shame. Shame which kept her eyes laser focused on her phone, the apps she tried to distract herself with, and the next shot she planned on slamming.

Amber: "I'll take...*hic*...another one!"

A drunken voice called, from a woman who had just taken the stool next to Jennifer. It was a miracle she had even caught the voice, given how loud the bar was, and how little she cared about any and all of it, and yet, there was something about it. Something ... she couldn't quite put her finger on. Intent on finding out what that something was, the blitzed brunette turned to see why the voice sounded so familiar, and found, to her heart-stopping horror and dismay, that she had, in the entire city of fucking New York, found a way to sit next to the woman with whom she spent an hour sobbing earlier in the day. "FML" She murmured under her liquor-scented breath.

Despite the brevity of Jennifer's glance, and the speed at which she tried to look away, she and the mystery woman's eyes once again locked. It lasted only a blink, as each looked away with almost equal amounts of fear and desperation coursing through their bodies, but still they both knew. And with that knowing, and as if to hide from a moving spotlight or a pathing guard, each sat motionless, not but inches apart, too drunk to leave, but too terrified of the other to stay. Awkward moments passed, one by one, then ten by ten, until finally neither could keep silent anymore. Each wanting to at least say something, so they could breathe again, and possibly even keep drinking, turned to the other, and opened their mouth to speak. Their words however, were interrupted by simultaneous calls to each of the girl's cell phones. Rather than continuing their course, and breaking their silence, they reached into their pockets, and raised their phones to their ears.

Jennifer: "Hello?

Amber: "Hi! Yes, this is Amber, who's this?"

Jennifer: "You're kidding me."

Amber: "Really?"

Jennifer: "But I didn't even interview?"

Amber: "But how did...?"

Jennifer: "Of course I'll take it, Mr. Bowman. Thank you so so much! Uh, right, Bennet. Got it."

Amber: "For sure ... I mean: yes, Mr. Bowman. This means so much to me, you have no idea. Call you, Austin? Ok, will do."

Simultaneously they both hung up, and let the conversations, which each heard, wash over them. They had both been given a job, as personal assistants to the Bowman brothers, but Jennifer had been assigned the brother in which she had no interest. The thought was both wonderful, and terrible -- divine and damning. At least it was something though. A foot in the door. A way into Austin's life, Jennifer thought, as she took a deep satisfied breath, before releasing it in a butterfly stomach sigh.

After that somewhat belated acceptance, Jennifer found herself more than interested in her new competition, and so she snuck a few quick looks and found that Amber's face contorted and then eased with equal tumult and hopeful resignation. From that, Jennifer derived, and rightfully so, that Amber had a crush on Bennett, and had not gotten the brother that she wanted either.

Regardless of their seemingly equal reservations about the assignment, there was something to celebrate, they were each one step closer to both of their dreams. Neither was the assistant to the man they wanted, but they would be in his life, and would be, finally, in striking distance of him. The two women sat thinking for a moment, before they each proclaimed in awkwardly loud voices:

Amber: "Check!"

Jennifer: "Can I get my tab?"

Each of them found sleep easy that night, snuggled in their own beds, ready and hopeful for what the new day, and their new jobs would bring.

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Chapter 2:

The moon which lit Amber and Jennifer's separate Uber rides home, quickly gave way to the light of the rising sun. Neither girl had processed or digested what had happened, or how it happened. And yet, despite the novel feeling of being completely blindsided by a life altering event, each woman was on time, and fully adorned with hours worth of makeup, and as tight and skimpy a dress as they could possibly have found. Given the fact that neither were interviewed, and that each were chosen after being seen by the brothers, that they had been hired for their looks alone, and their resemblance to a woman, and a body type that both Austin and Bennett sought not only exclusively, but feverishly. It is true that both had submitted resumes, with loudly-vouching letters of recommendation, but neither had the work history, educational background, or scholastic connections to earn such a prestigious job as this -- not at the company, and certainly not in New York. Despite the implications of such hiring practices, and the possible damage each might be doing to their gender as a whole, they moved forward unfazed and undaunted.

That moving quickly brought them together once again, as each stood on opposite sides of the 85th floor's partially split lobby, iPad in one hand, and Apple Pencil in the other, each listening, and furiously scribbling. They were both more than eager to please, wanting desperately to not only succeed in their new job, but also do so to such an extent, that they would draw the eye of the other's brother.

Bennett: "Got all that? I know I speak quickly, but you'll get used to it. It's the only pace that allows us to get anything done in this business."

Jennifer: "Got it, sir!"

Bennett: "Don't call me, sir, this isn't boot camp. Call me Bennett." The co-CEO's words may have sounded unassuming, and business forward, but his eyes were involved in an entirely different venture. His eyes bouncing from one curve to another, up and down his newest play thing's body, all the while his mind worked on not only measuring her assets, but also his chances of conquering her sooner, rather than later.

Jennifer: "Anything else, Mr. Bennett?"

Bennett: "It can just be Bennett, but that works. Actually yeah, one more thing. Can you follow me back in my office? I'd like you to taste some of the coffee we just had brought in." Jennifer's heart began to pound, as the realization of what he was truly asking set in. He was not Austin -- not the man or the brother she wanted. And yet, here is was, a billionaire, a man tied for sexiest man on the planet, asking her to join him for some "coffee". Jennifer hesitated, intending to decline his offer, hoping to remain loyal to Austin though he did not even know her. But, just as she began to formulate her perhaps career ending rejection, her eyes drifted across the lobby, and connected with Amber's. Who she could see, was being similarly propositioned by Austin, with a motioning for her to join him in his private office -- his eyes filled with no less lust or expectancy. It was something Amber saw as well, she having been making the exact same calculations, holding the exact same plan to say no. The brunettes' stares became affixed to one another, and every movement they made, the other copied. And so that is how it was that a single accidental and meaningless half-step towards Bennet by Jennifer, changed both girl's lives forever. For Amber followed, and then so did Jennifer, each walking the other, despite their distance, into the arms of the man the other loved.

As each woman walked into the separate offices of their employers, their minds raced and raged, angry at the other for daring to accept an invitation, both knew to be sexual in nature. They hadn't even spoken to one another, and yet, both felt deeply that the other should have known and respected their feelings and desires.

Despite the pretext, coffee was quickly forgotten, as firm hands were laid on each of their shapely asses, and skin-tight dresses were peeled off bodies and breasts. Each woman thought only of their anger for the other as they relented, using that anger to fuel the passion with which they pleased their respective charge. Sucking with abandon, flexing and stretching in ways they never had before, milking the cock of the brother before them for every last ounce of cum, only stopping when each brother was thoroughly spent, and was forced to ask for a rest. Each buxom brunette made a point to scream, and in concert force their new lovers to grunt, loudly enough for them to be heard in the other's office. The sounds of such lustful callings, set each of them to seethe, and redouble their efforts to truly enthrall their own partner -- whether they wanted him, or not.

Neither Amber or Jennifer had intended to have sex with the man they knew the other to want before that day, but now -- now there was nothing more that they wanted in the whole world, than to punish the other. Each swearing to themselves not to destroy the other, or get them fired, but instead to do everything in their power to keep the heart and body of the other's dream man -- forcing their rival to watch as their chances at happiness faded into oblivion.

Two full hours of pleasure passed for the brothers, before Amber and Jennifer allowed them peace and exited their offices -- each making sure that they left their own hair disheveled and clothes unfixed, so that their new rival could see, and know what they had done, as if they did not already. Those states of appearance were not lost on either, when finally they came back into each other's view. Their glares were piercing and faces contorted with frustration and rage. They each took a single step towards the other, struggling with the temptation to have it out right there and then -- to rip every hair from the other's head, and make them wish they had never agreed to sleep with the other's one true love. Their slow march towards violence was interrupted however, when the phones at their desks suddenly rang.

It was there that their day, and duties, took a more mundane course, allowing only for the briefest moments in which they might share a glare with their rival. Schedules to complete, appointments to keep -- food to be ordered, and messes to be sorted, all kept them busy, and distracted as one could be, whilst working with someone in such close proximity, that you hate more than words can relay.

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Chapter 3:

5 days had passed, since Amber and Jennifer first began their new jobs at Bowman International.

5 days, since they each, through the slightest of missteps, had torn each other's hearts out, and not moments thereafter, set their minds and souls against one another.

5 days, and still the two buxom brunettes had not spoken a single word to one another, or even come close to settling their grievances. .

At first, unconscious and accidental was the silence that lingered between them, but their mutually wounding decision to take the other's "love" into a sexual embrace, forged chance into rule, and happenstance into principle. And so even when situations called for it, and necessity demanded it, they still refused to speak, each working alone and at times together to find unspoken workarounds, such as nods without words, and the forced altering of wicked glares into glances more focused on instruction and assent, than animosity and malice.