Searing into my vision, the seemingly endless spreadsheet continued to burn into my retinas. Hour after hour, day upon day, every time I blinked I could see all the numbers and analysis flash in that brief, infinitesimal moment between my eyelids and the waking world. Sitting in the office, caged in by the flimsy walls of my cubicle, I wondered what crime I had committed to be stuck in this makeshift prison cell, forever doomed to work my life away in this god-forsaken place. Dull aches wracked my head. My brain’s higher functions are slowly being worn away as I continued ploughing through the infinitude of data and incoherent numbers. The stream of cheap coffee mixed with the stabbing anxiety pangs of a looming deadline kept my being from collapsing into a vegetative state.
The cheaply made office chair rattled ever so slightly. Then again, following the consistent rhythm of footsteps. Growing closer by the moment, each footfall carried with it ever-increasing strength and power, enough so to jolt me upwards out of my seat and to rattle my workstation to the point where my screen tried turning away from me as if it were scared of the create causing such commotion. It soon reached a point where focusing on my work was impossible. The quaking proved to be more distracting than the thought of failing at my task. Step after step, the intensity then reaches a point where the walls of the office block itself might cave in, unable to handle the strain of all this sudden and violent upheaval. Then, as the work area was now placed into cast darkness, a cold shiver ran down my spine as I felt an oppressive icy glare fall onto me from on high, freezing my body in its place.
“You were meant to email me this morning.”
Slowly swivelling around on my chair, my neck audibly cracked as I craned my head upwards to meet with the cause of all the miniature earthquakes unsettling my cubicle. Of course, it had to be her, who else would they send that could cause such havoc with their footsteps alone? That disdainful look permanently plastered on that soft, statuesque face. Those chiselled cheekbones one could only find on any superb sculpture. Mixed with those long flowing locks soaking in the dim ceiling lighting until they shone as golden as the sun. It had to be Abigail.
Trying my best to summon some semblance of strength, I tried looking into her eyes, yet my body, driven by an almost animalistic instinct, diverted my attention to look everywhere but directly at her. Matching her gaze would take more willpower than I could muster. Looking into those pupils, tinged such a shade of deep blue, it felt as if I was staring into a dark abyssal trench of the ocean rather than at my manager.
“Sorry about that Abigail.” It took all my concentration to withhold my fear so as to not stutter out my words in front of her.
“I’ve… err... got a ton of work on my hands ever since Harry and Lewis left the team.”
Abigail, unable to enter my cubicle on the account of her frame, lent over instead, engulfing my vision with her body. Instinctively, I tensed up as the fear in my gut churned and writhed. All of my faculties failed me one by one, unable to cope with the towering titaness before me. Her face, set firmly in stone so that it never shifted from that gaze of utter contempt, stared down from on high to make me squirm as hard as she could possibly make me.
“I don’t care for your excuses. You and I are going to have a meeting at the end of the day to catch up on what you have…” Her lush eyebrow rose up in scrutinous inspection, proving that she could, in fact, display some emotion else than disgust when dealing with us rank and file.
The split-second silence may have well lasted an eternity as I lent back on my chair, trying in vain to gain some distance from Abigail. Thanks to a rather audible squeak emanating from the shoddy components within, all I had achieved was to snap the massive manager back to her senses.
“Or what you have not done. Is that understood?” How such a tender voice could mask such vitriol I would never know.
“Yes ma’am.” My fear and anxiety drove me to spit out such an answer in a hurried flash.
With barely a hint of acknowledgement, Abigail rose back up to her full, intimidating height. The top of Abigail’s head came too close to scraping across the ceiling as always, before making her way to her next target. After a brief moment, my cubicle rested nice and still, if now more disorderly before thanks to the tremor inducing steps of my manager. Beads of sweat flooded over my forehead, caking it in such a thick layer I might have looked as if I stepped out from a torrential downpour. Of all the luck to be under a woman such as her.
Reorganising my workplace once more, my thoughts turned to other matters as I struggled to focus once more on my tasks. My haggard reflection cast back from the computer screen became my partner in my post distress musings. The cell walls rumbled slightly once more, my computer and belongings rattling atop the desk in spaced out sequence. Throwing a quick glance over my shoulder, another manager paces past by. Her body still appeared over the walls of the cubicle, yet even my cursory peak revealed as much as I needed to know. This lady, some mid-tier executive stuck in HR, revealed the true unfairness of life. As if I needed to add more misery onto sorrow at this point.
Whoever had passed by served a strange purpose in this haze I found myself in, for it made Abigail’s stature more abundantly clear in my mind. Dwarfing her peers by several feet, Abi stood closer to twenty-foot tall, making even them look minute as they stood in the shadow of what heights a woman truly could reach. Most of the other managers barely even came close to her hips in height. The men here reached just below her knee, meaning one had to contend with standing by those thick titanic thighs of hers. Staring into those black stockings of hers whilst Abigail towered over you, seeing her muscles jutting were more than enough to scare someone straight back to work.
The other girls had to be envious of that ability. I’m sure that most, if not all of the women working here, were jealous of such managerial prowess. Some girls here certainly enjoyed the position of being taller over the workers, but to be outdone by someone like Abi must really sting, especially with that body of hers. They must have to specially craft her shirts because I have no clue how strong that fabric had to be in order to contain that outrageous bust of hers. Anyone can take one look at the buttons around that chest of hers and see how much they are straining to keep her breasts from bursting forth from its imprisonment. One little heave, one minute tense and she could send scores of buttons flying from her shirt, firing them off like bullets, just to have her glorious chest free from its confinement.
My mind glazes over such thoughts as the blur of the spreadsheet morphs and changes into darkness. I try to prop my head up but my body gives in, forcing me to slump over. At the forefront of my mind, memories remerge to take me away from the drudgery of work. After thinking about her chest, I now remember a different time where she sauntered down the row of cubicles on her way to scold some other member of the team. She had barely gotten a few steps beyond my workstation until she dropped a folder onto the floor. The clatter of that hefty file shook the floor and in that commotion, I pushed my chair back to peer at her. I must have been suicidal to even think about catching a peak of Abi like that. If she caught me I would have probably been smacked into a coma, but it was worth that risk.
I can still see it now, those broad, expansive hips of hers and that huge, well-endowed ass. That skirt adhered so tightly to her as she bent over, she should have ripped the thing open. Even as she stood straight, seeing those gargantuan cheeks pressed against the darkness of her skirt, the lighting above shining down and illuminating an intoxicating outline of her voluptuous figure. After those few scant seconds of her proudly displaying her ass, she picked up her folder, flicking her golden hair back as Abigail resumed her day. To behold those fabric stretching butt cheeks jiggling packed in a tight skirt as she strode off to another poor soul to chide and chew out brought out such primordial feelings I never knew I had. The way her voluptuous hips swayed from side to side as each of her footfalls created such an uproar in the office, it drove me mad beyond reasoning.
Pressing my fingers onto my forehead, I tried to dispel the image of Abigail’s godly figure by remembering instead that I had to get this work done or I would find myself out of a job. I had to contend with my deadline but now with these taunting thoughts. My typing continued at a slow, downbeat pace as it took more strength just to try and stop thinking about her. A titaness taunting me with her glorious physique, her intoxicating floral aroma of her perfume wafting through the air combined that snide soul-piercing contempt on her face. She is completely out of my reach. I know it and every other guy working in the office knows it, so why does my brain continue to torture me with the vain notion that a woman like her would ever try to do something with me? Imagination does not do justice to actually seeing her in motion.
Several deep breaths come and go as I centre myself. However, time seemed to stall in the office. Only by looking at the clock on my computer could I tell that there was some sort of progression today. No light penetrated this far into the office that allowed my senses to understand that the day was indeed progressing. People had been coming and going for a while, only to be interrupted by the disorder of a manager walking past to jolt me alive again. Exhaustion wracked my body until it all went dark.