Working Late

***********************

- This is an erotic fantasy that deals with non-consensual sex. I don't ask that you agree with what is presented in the following text but if you are adverse to it you would be better off not reading any further.

***********************

"Working late", I hate working late! It always seems to have to happen at the worst times. I suppose that's just a point of view once it becomes inevitable; still I always get this nagging wish that it could just happen some other time. Usually when the samples don't make it by noon they don't make it at all, they aren't supposed to deliver them in the afternoon but every now and then there's a mistake. They're time sensitive; if the samples aren't processed the day that they arrive they're useless. I was minutes away from going home at 4 when the call from the shipping dock came in. I saw the number and considered not answering it.

"If I don't answer it I can be home in 15 minutes.......who's going to know?........I know what this is.........urrrgggg......". Rambled my inner-monologue urging me not to answer, but then as if by a force of nature I ignore my every thought.

"Analysis and testing", I tried to say in my most evasive and passive voice with a lump forming in my throat as if to try to prevent me from identifying myself, "Michelle speaking." I swallow it realizing that I let myself down again.

The familiar, rough, voice with a thick French accent informs me, "ahh we haz zome zzamples down here for youz mizz, zee youz ah zoon."

3:54 – Fucking three-fucking-fifty-fucking-four!!! And zzamples! How does this happen? The guys in the field know it takes hours to process them. They can't do this to me. Why did I answer that phone? I could have been in the bathroom, I could have been down the hall, I could have been in my car and on my way home if I didn't let myself get caught. In all my 40 years I'd like to say that I've never been so dumb but I'd know that wouldn't be true, and at that point it didn't make a difference I was making my way to the dock to get the samples.

I work in a lab that is part of a government office that serves a variety of directives; the place is a ghost town at 4:00. Everyone with better sense or less work ethic has already made their way to the exit. There is no mass exodus, people tend to slip away one by one each afternoon; the slow but steady pace drains the place, leaving only the stragglers to leave at the proper time. Why I always work my hours? it's really just a matter of being a rule follower. Some people follow rules and conform to society and those expectations and other push the boundaries and attempt to conform society to their needs with varying degrees of success. My attempts at the latter have never resulted in much success, so by default I find myself in the former category. Still I like to dream what life would be like if I pushed more boundaries, pushing back at the resistance when it comes. Daydreaming is fun but that's not really me.

What I am is a middle aged woman, one who is becoming comfortable in that role. I'm a mother of two, with a stable home life and a loving family. The signs of aging that have long driven me crazy with grief I've come to accept and in some cases flaunt. Sure my hips are a little wider now, my joints don't always agree with my need to be active, and one glass of wine can put me to bed, but I still look good for my age. I still get plenty of looks from guys of all different ages and some are even bold enough to flirt; something I'm even better at recognizing these days. My long brown hair that curls when I don't straighten it still has its natural colour....for the most part...and my grey eyes are still as striking as ever. I'm by no means big, in any case I have stopped struggling with every pound, I work out and try to eat right but I don't chastise myself for a sugar binge anymore. I'm comfortable at 5'7" and between 145 and 155.....depending on the aforementioned binge. I'm not stranger to the gym or the yoga matt, it's for myself these days and not to make a vain attempt to get my dancer's body back.

My favourite past time of daydreaming wasn't on my mind that day as I made my way down the hall with the multi-coloured floor towards the shipping dock. Nope, I was overcome with despair, "why oh why did I answer that phone", words that would come to take on different meaning before the night was over. In the three minute walk self-loathing had changed to self-pity; acceptance wouldn't be far behind. All three emotions were also to be made more intense due to circumstances beyond my control.

"Aello, miz Meichelle, theze boxes for zee pretty lady." JP exclaimed in a voice that left no doubt that he was happy to see me.

That was really just his nature and he talked like that to all the women. Most guys wouldn't be able to get away with it in the government work setting but this was just JP. He spoke rough, likely from years of cigarette smoking, but always met you with a smile which went a long way in seeing past his intimidating physique. JP is over 6 feet tall with pretty broad shoulders and wide proportions. The typical middle aged mid-section from likely indulging a little bit much at the bars, he is missing a few teeth from he describes as a less settled youth. Well that is me translating, the way he puts it in his typical way is, "If yous think I's lost my pretty faze, yah should haz zeen zee other guyz", chuckling "so long ago it's anodder life."

Over the years I'd heard all sorts of stories from JP. Whenever I have to go for the samples he loves to talk, it takes a bit of time to fill out the declarations and always takes longer due to the small talk. I don't mind though, it's a detour from the lab and he can be entertaining. It's not in my nature to talk a lot so mostly I just listen, other times I have to cut him short because I just have work to do. This was one of those days that small talk just wasn't on my mind. I didn't mean to come off as a bitch or anything but I was pretty short with him and gave dismissive signals when he engaged me with his usual banter. It was nothing personal, just I wasn't in the mood for stories at the moment.

I'm not sure how it seems to other people, but I'm not the most social person in the world. I don't really talk to many people at the building and sometimes I find it unsettling when people try to talk to me. I don't know if they expect me to talk about myself or just listen to them or what. I grew up rather introverted in most things, being pretty nerdy in high school and dealing with bullies as a result. Even with the stuff long in the past, opening myself up to other people isn't something that comes naturally to me; even when I work at it it's quite difficult. As a result a most of my interactions remain superficial and one sided; I don't mean anything by it, it's just the way I am.

On the other side, I often find myself in my own world. I love to daydream, and fall into them in all sorts of different settings. Hours after picking up the samples I was doing just that, immersed in my little worlds and taking longer with my work as a result. It didn't matter at this point; I had past acceptance and was now enjoying the quiet stillness of the lab. It felt so ghostly serene with only the emergency lighting to light the hallways and me in my fluorescent oasis. I was beginning to become thankful that my day became a 12 hour work day as I called my husband to tell him that it would be at least another couple hours before I was home. The lab isn't half bad at night, maybe the lab isn't that bad at all......just all the people that work there.

It's not that I hate everyone; it's just that some people just get on my wrong side. There's a guy who thinks his every word is a contribution to the grand total of humour in the world, some that attempt to undermine everything any does in an attempt to look better, a new manager who just changes things to show that it's his lab and not because the former managers way was wrong and then there is me who listens to everything and says hardly anything. The others just seem to have more in common, add that to my general mistrust for people and the space isn't always a happy one for me. With none of that around and just my work I can remember what I loved about the work in the first place, I can take my time and daydream and I can forget that there is a world outside of the darkened hallways that runs in a rectangle around the entire lab.

By the time I file the report time became so distant that it could have been a figment of my daydream. Taking off my lab coat and snapping back to this reality I notice the time to be 10:30 in the evening. This had to be one of my latest nights of work, yet for some reason I feel like I'm leaving a sauna too early. As I turn the lights off I feel a little cooler although the temperature is no doubt the same. I straighten my accordion style pleated skirt I ordered from Zara, it's grey and cuts just above my knee, perhaps a remnant of my mid-life crisis but it makes me feel sexy and I like to feel that way some days; despite the lab coat that goes over. Taking off my lab coat has also revealed a smart looking blouse with a floral pattern I got at H&M; affordable but caught my eye. My shoes are plain flat-bottoms that don't compliment my outfit but at least appeal to the common sense of not wearing heels at work....a mistake that my vanity still occasionally allows. My hair is tied back and I know it will feel good to release it, so much so that I won't even wait until I get to my car.

Letting my hair fall with a shake increases my feeling of isolated freedom. The hallway is dark with the exception of a few lights that gives the entirely familiar surrounding an unfamiliar appeal. I find solace in how peaceful everything can be. The darkened offices that will soon be buzzing with with people, computers and the noise of the morning seem to be sleeping, my passing presence the only witness to their nocturnal existence. Emerging out the side door that leads to the parking lot I get my first taste of non filtered air since the morning, it's dark and the parking lot is empty.

"Oh fuck!......I mean double fuck!" I say to myself in horror as I realize I forgot my purse! Just as the exit door closes shut behind me. I have no way to get back in! I'll have to walk around the building and get the nighttime security guard to let me back in if he has pity on me, he can pretty easily say no. I was looking so forward to talking to nobody and now I was in a position were I'd have to convince someone to help me. My mood had swung from serene to mortified. I must have stood in the same spot for 10 minutes before finding my resolve to start walking around the building. The shortest way was around the back from the exit I left so I started on my way.

I'm not sure why, but on the way I felt less than alone. I couldn't see or hear anyone but I felt a strange presence, it was as if I was being watched and worse followed. I stopped walking a couple times to see if I could still hear footsteps.........nothing. It's been such an emotional day I tell myself and now my head is playing tricks. At least the cool fall air feels nice on my bare legs I think trying to skewer something positive out of my late night stroll. Regardless, I can't seem to convince myself nothing is out there.

To get around the building, I need to walk around the warehouse part that is next to a park area that has some sand volleyball courts where the students play at lunch. The area doesn't look peaceful to me, on the other hand it looks scary and with the intruder in my head I plan to walk faster until I hear.

"Meichelle!", in a hushed rough whisper/shout.

The voice leaves no doubt who it is, before I can consider what he's actually doing there, I turn and say "Oh hi, do you usually leave this late?"

"ah no-no, I's juzt been here waiting for youz," he continued, "youz zee, Is hope a pretty lady would talk to ze."

There was something in his look and demeanour that told me this was just harmless JP. He's called me pretty lady 100s of times but in this context it was defiant and menacing.

"I just have to get home, I hope you weren't waiting for me........I mean of course you weren't." I was trying to play of the seriousness I felt in the situation and gave a nervous laugh with the last part.

JP was standing beside the wall on the paved walkway beside the building, to physically avoid him I would have to walk into the volleyball area and make it noticeable that I didn't want to come within 10 feet of him. My heart was pounding but I didn't want to make more out of this than there was, I didn't know anything about how long he stayed or what he was doing there. Maybe he did have a reason to be and what he said was just him joking like usual and the setting and my mood was what made it so different. Still he was just standing there looking right at me, almost daring me to try to walk by him. I felt overcome with anxiety and fear.

He wasn't smiling at all, he looked very serious. His goofy expressions and carefree good nature seemed completely sucked out of him by the night. Someone that I've always thought of as frankly unwashed, uneducated and simple was very much intimidating me. By unwashed, I mean that you could always see the dirt on his fingers, he did manual labour and it showed. I never thought much about his desires or what he thought about the rest of the world; in this case my world. Now, to me, he looked like he wanted some sort of revenge on me for not taking him seriously, not taking the time to talk to him as an equal for living my sheltered life and not caring about his.

These thought swarmed my head as I went to pass him. After all I know where he works, he would dare do anything to me...........

His hand grabs my arm as I try to jump in alarm. His dirty fingers holding me hard on my forearm as I start to scream.

"Nobody hear you. We far away." He was right, the site due to the nature of it, is removed from residential areas.

He pins me against the wall and continues, "I juzt want to talk with zee pretty lady." He says in a patronizing tone.

"Why iz she alwayz zuch a fucking bitch?" He says in a dark growl.

His mouth right beside my ear and he whispers more obscenities, "that right....yous a fucking bitch.......i's talks to youz an all youz do iz rollz yous eyz..........connasse.........va te faire foutre"

As his language gets rougher and switches to his native French his hand talk liberties with my body. Tears stream down my face as he pushes his dirty tongue into my ear. My whole body shudders with horror and goes limp only his hands to hold me up. One of which has found it's way under my skirt and has cupped my sex on the outside of my panties. I can feel his hatred, it's so pure and vile. This person that I've known for 10 years and someone that I thought liked me was treating me with absolute hatred.

His stomach pressed me firmly against the wall as I tried to break free, never coming close to breaking his grip. All of a sudden I feel myself being swung around very hard, being tossed toward the grass near the volleyball courts. If I can just keep my balance I can run away and this fat fuck will never be able to catch me. My feet fail me and I hit the ground running, my chin hits the grass and goes numb on impact. I'm telling myself to get up, but the water in my eyes and the nerves in my stomach tell me that it's over and that I've lost. My legs aren't working and I don't get up.

I try to crawl for no other reason than to tell myself that I'm fighting. I can feel him standing over me. I turn to look and he's naked from the waste down, his very erect penis staring straight at me. I'm overcome with horror as I realize that he's raping me. My defence systems shut down in that moment completely, my attempt to scream at the top of my lungs is met with empty air coming out of my lungs. I'm hyperventilating at the prospect of what's to come.

"Please don't." I sob in a pathetic attempt at sympathy.

There isn't any sympathy coming. I managed to crawl half way onto the sand while he was taking his pants off and I can feel the cold sand on my arms as I curl up into a defensive ball. He yanks me free from my ball by the hair, a rush of pain flows through my entire body as my upper body stiffens to not let him pull my hair from it's roots.

He's shoves his very large cock in front of my closed mouth. He yanks hard in a downward motion this time on my hair to open my mouth. The fair that made me feel so free to let out is being used to subject me to my confinement.

"Bite or do bad".......he says raising his other hand in a threatening manner.

My knees are starting to feel pain from being dragged by the hair in the sand, but that is the least of my problems now and he slowly starts putting his cock in my mouth.

Exasperated, "widzer, widzer", pushing more and more of his big cock in my mouth.

Soon he has both hands on the back of my head and it feel like that is all that is holding me up. I'm not sucking his dick, he is just fucking my face with his cock. I feel like I am going to puke as it keeps relentlessly hitting the back of my throat. Soon I can't help it and saliva starts spewing up. Undeterred he just keeps moving my head back and forth with his powerful hands. I can feel his fingers spread to grip around my whole skull and that's all I can feel, the rest of my body is limp and simply attached to my head. My head that's only purpose at this point is his satisfaction.

All of a sudden I'm released and I fall onto the sand, I turn over to let the rest of the saliva and possibly cum drip out of my mouth. I can't tell if he came or not through all the spit. My eyes are all watered but it's not from crying, my emotions had fallen numb long before, just from the trauma of being jabbed in the bottom of my throat so many times. I've never deep throated anyone and after this experience I'm not sure how anyone does it.

Perhaps he did cum and this whole thing is over with and done. My senses are completely foreign to me and I can't tell where he is. I start wiping my eyes and look up to see him standing there just looking at me. His cock is still hard and standing to complete attention and he seems completely ready to take his time. There is nothing suggesting that I had any chance of getting away from this, he is in complete control. His loathsome eyes, look down at me and see a helpless woman with scraped knees, dissolved clothing, spit dripping out of the corners of her mouth and hair messed from being manhandled. My terrified eyes see a physically imposing man, his stomach hanging beneath his shirt, his hairy legs look skinny in comparison to his upper body, his hands are by his side as he surveys his victim. His cock is horrifying, at least 8 inches long, thick, veiny, hairy and completely hard; showing no hint of going limp.

"Youz know what I's do kno?" He said as if to mock me.

I just shook my head no in response.

"Zo come oun now, hazn't zee pretty lady found her voizce?" he was just playing with me.

Tiring quickly of the game, "remoze the clothez."

"NO!" I manage to say with conviction as the fight tries to return to me.

He's not going to fuck me I tell myself. I try to fight as hard as I can, but this isn't much of a challenge to him. If anything, he seems to enjoy my last chance and resistance. We wrestle and bit before he picks me up and throws me hard onto the ground, the back of my head hits the sand hard causing me to see stars. I try to get up and gain my balance, but I'm dizzy and I trip. At some point he took his shirt of and is obscenely naked. I'm in a fight with a naked erect man and losing very badly.

My resolve to fight the ultimate intrusion hasn't vanished completely, I struggle as he falls on top of my pushing my legs open. My accordion pleated skirt that I liked so much is pushed up above my waste, he has me pinned. My attempts to hit and scratch him are having no effect, he is completely undeterred as he unbuttons my blouse very carefully as to not rip the fabric. When he's done my panties are not given the same consideration and he pulls very hard ripping them and causing me extreme pain in the skin around my hips when the fabric resisted.