I closed my eyes and sighed, trying to massage the knots my neck had gathered after a day sitting in the same position at my desk. I listened to the hum of my computer as it worked through the analysis of the model I’d spent all day setting up. Just a few more minutes and the run would finish. I was looking forward to saving the results and processing them from the comfort of my own couch, but I needed my work computer to do the heavy lifting of the analysis.
A louder whirring noise arising from my desk caused me to open my eyes, and i reached for the mouse. I moved my hand back and forth, but the cursor stayed motionless in the center of the monitor. Before I could try anything else, the noise from my computer abruptly ceased and the screen went blue, then black.
“Fuck.”
I tried to breathe calmly as I rebooted my computer and looked for the model that had nearly finished running. I checked the information, hoping it had auto-saved something before the computer shut down.
“Last saved… two hours ago.” I muttered.
“Fuck!” I shouted, then threw my notebook across my cubicle into the hallway beyond. Thankfully, it was so late that no one was in the office to hear my meltdown, though I’m not sure I could have contained my anger even if the office was full.
As I picked up a pen to become my next projectile, a distant noise made me pause mid-throw.
The copier? I thought.
Curiosity temporarily replaced my anger as I walked down the hall to the copy room, where the familiar sound of the old machine was emanating from.
“Tom?”
The office manager turned around and smiled at me, his teeth so straight and white that I wondered if they were even real or made of polished seashells.
“Hey, I didn’t know anyone else was here. Is the copier bothering you?”
I stifled a laugh and just shook my head. Tom nodded, then turned back to a stack of paper sitting in the tray. I noticed his small but firm butt as he pulled the freshly-printed papers into his hands and set them onto the table beside him.
“Anything you need scanned? I’m about done here.” He gestured to the copier behind him.
Something about his deliberate stacking of the paper and the rhythmic pulsing of the copier was dampening my anger, and I began to think of something else that might make me feel better.
“I can think of something I’d like to have scanned,” I said suggestively, taking a step towards Tom.
I waited for him to get my meaning, but he just raised a finger when the copier ceased making noise. “You’re in luck! Just finished up.” It started up again, and he shook his head as another paper landed in the tray. “Sorry, false alarm.”
“That thing really pounds hard when it gets going, huh?” I said, trying again.
“You’re telling me. I can hear it from clear down the hall. Might be time for a new one, but it’s just not in the budget this year.” He turned with a shrug, then pulled the remaining sheets and set them atop his existing pile before gathering them into his hands.
“You ever think maybe it just needs a good spanking?” I asked, biting my lip and sticking my breasts out. Any other night I would’ve given up already. Tom was decently fit, and kind enough, but not worth as much effort as I was putting in. But after my analysis failed pre-completion, somebody definitely needed to finish tonight.
“A spanking?” Tom looked from me to the copier and back, stack of papers still in his arms. “That’s not in the manual, but I -“
“Just fuck me, Tom.”
His eyes widened at my interruption, but he managed not to drop his papers as he stared at me.
“Sounds good,” he said finally. He turned and set the stack onto the table behind him, then pivoted towards me and pulled off his tie.
I stepped forward and kissed him. He smelled a bit like bread, but it wasn’t necessarily bad. He put his hands on my waists as I deepened the kiss, then pulled away to yank my shirt over my head.
“I’ve always wanted to do it on a copier,” I whispered, wiggling my eyebrows.
“Hmm, the manual doesn’t specifically mention a weight limit but I can’t imagine it’s recommended.” He looked around the room thoughtfully, then pulled away as he walked over to the table on the opposite side of the room that held the stapler and hole punch. I watched, topless, as he crouched down and scanned the underside. “Well here we go, this is rated for 450 pounds. That should be plenty,” he said, gesturing towards the table after he stood.
I forced myself not to take offense at his estimation of our combined weights, then crossed the room as he pulled his own shirt off. He reached into his pocket before taking his pants off, removing a condom from a compartment in his wallet.
“Expires June, 2025,” he read off the packet. “We’re all set.”
I smiled with as much enthusiasm as I could muster, hoping the actual sex would be better than Tom’s attempts at foreplay.
Eight minutes later, I got my answer, and I put my clothes back on quickly before waving to him as he walked towards the exit, papers in hand.
Me? I went back to my desk and pulled up my analysis model, ready to give it another try.
Like I said, SOMEone was going to finish tonight.