We wanted to hurt our boss. And by hurt I mean cruelty. He was an audacious man. A presumptuous one. They didn’t like it, although some may deny these feelings of animosity now, the dislike they felt was a strong one. Because a couple did show me, in those rancid, soggy bathrooms in our workplace that had no air vent, a thorough and detailed plan of what was going to be performed upon our boss. A disgusting, vulgar plan. I’d adjusted certain parts to my liking, because I had no ill will against him. Rather, I had all the admiration. He had a power about him, one, apparently, only I’d fallen under. The power made me tremble, such that an irrational obsession developed. And when I saw the plan, it was difficult to keep from crying in delight. Nothing was more desirable than the chance to seize my boss and intertwine with him. To commit acts of sinfully erotic sweetness that show only the truest bliss of humankind, while the ecstasty from his groaned articulations settled in my skin and heart and head. And so when I adjusted those plans, they only grew crueler.
Why, you may ask, is the workplace full of women and men with such odd desires and abnormal levels of disapproval? I am not so sure myself. A year ago, maybe some time less, when I joined, everyone, including me especially, seemed ‘normal,’ maybe even a bit boring. We’d had slight to no interest in our boss until just two months ago on the Wednesday of December 7th. What latched us on to him? His personality was always bold, but it’d increased swiftly from that point. And it led us up to this point. Me, obsession bent towards his alluringly sensual aura. My coworkers, fuelled with hatred and wanting to mangle.
So it’s begun today. The boss, his short, black hair stiff and slid back with gel. His posture rigid and uniform tight against his unusually wide chest, perhaps comical? The deadness in his brown eyes when he looked at us, all of us, any of us, made me seize up and immediately begin crafting indecorous fantasies that’d play over in my mind the rest of the day.
“Mr. Harper, can you check over this folder?” A shy, callow voice called from the boxed office slightly further down from where mine sat.
“I’ll be there in a minute.” My boss responded, not looking up from the phone he’d been holding to his face for the last half-hour.
And I waited. The owner of the shy, callow voice waited. The man beside, across, and behind me waited. All our eyes on Mr. Harper, the atmosphere just one blink from turmoil. Could he feel our eyes? All fifteen pairs? On his back, his face, his gelled hair, his comically large chest. He looked up and glanced around, and so I glanced with him. Fourteen pairs of eyes focused on the work in front of them, and one meeting his own pair. Mine. We looked at eachother, my skin tingling, and then moving deeper into my blood. I felt the explosive warmth spread inside me, like an orgasm, or much rather—hope.
He looked away and started towards the one owning the shy, callow voice.
“Go on.” A whisper.
“I am, are you sure this is enough?” A response.
“You aren’t a highschooler turning in a late essay. What is this wording? And this is in the wrong place.” My Boss. “What are you doing? Go back to your seat.” Also my boss.
“Umph!” Mr. Harper then fell back into the arms of the owner of the shy, callow voice. And the rag that’d been covering his mouth and nose was thrown into a nearby trash bin, landing with a thud.
14 pairs of eyes raised and moved near Mr. Harper, many now hidden from me and instead replaced by backs. They carried him to his office, a large, pretentious office that reflected him.
“Help me clear it out.” I said, addressing everyone who was not the three laying the boss onto the boss’s desk.
We moved the chairs, stray books, files, folders, papers, and bottles of wine that were either empty or half full.
Then we stood. Stood looking at the boss and then nervously at each other. But what fun would it be? To take turns on a man who deserved so much more. To hurt and peel and man who I found to be so superior in every way. The only man who existed in my eyes. I had no feelings for my coworkers, no opinions. How could I let them taint the skin of my Mr. Harper?
They looked at me. All 14 pairs of eyes. White eyes with no bodies.
I took two glock 42’s from the tote bag I’d had over my shoulder, and held them pointed to the rest of the room.
“No. No. . . I’ve changed my mind. You should all stay.” I walked to the door that opened into the office and locked it, my left gun still aimed at everyones head, waving from eye to eye.
And they looked.
And I shot. The searing screams rippled into my ears and the blood that splashed and shot. It only made me pull the trigger faster, my fear of the boss awakening grew evermore.
They fell like abscission on a matured flower.
Then I fucked the boss and he fell in love with me and we got married and decided together after 6 years we did’nt want kids and so we lived the rest of our life happy, childless, and sex filled.