Lunch Buddies: Happy Hour, pt 1

Well, what do you know: the higher-ups were paying attention after all. No, not to me and Ms. Hands’s caprices. We’re far too subtle for them to ever pick up on what’s going on between us. I’m talking about the past three months of work we’ve been busting our asses on reconciling our financial records. That’s a red alarm for any company, but the stakes are higher at Arlington Trust, as you can imagine. We’ve been holding our breath, walking on eggshells, minding our P’s and Q’s, all the cliches you can think of. No slipping up, no unnecessary expenses, just playing by the rules and even dragging the rulebook out to study over lunch breaks while we’re getting audited. Even private interviews, and that was a harrowing experience. Tana’s normally sunny and unsinkable, but I could see some of the cracks in her veneer after a few weeks of this treatment.

Now, me, at least I can play the short card. They really wanted to grill me, I‌ knew, but what did they have on me? Bubkis, and they knew it. I don’t bluff easily, no, I hold up well under pressure. So between the one guy jabbing his big sausage finger in my face, leaning down to unhinge his jaws and really roar at me, and the woman swinging her big tits overhead, plopping them on the table, leaning over the table to show them off, well, I had my work cut out for me, sure. But you know what they say about a lump of coal under pressure for a long time. I just smirked at them and listened to their spiel, gave them enough rope to slip up, and sure enough, that big palooka let slip a crack about my height. Let me tell you, maybe they have no fear of Goddess in their hearts, but the threat of one call to HR gave them a moment’s pause.

All that, while their squadrons were going over our records with a fine-tooth comb. I admire their diligence, and I’ll even suggest I’m glad they did it, ’cause they helped clean up a few stragglers and loose ends that’d been bugging me for years. At the end of the day, if we’re a tighter, leaner ship for it, I’m all in favor, and why not.

We passed with flying colors, at any rate, and the big bosses were taking us out for drinks. One thing you gotta know about accountants and bankers is that they know how to hold their drink, so we knew that this was a special occasion, if they knew what they were getting into. All that went through my head when I came back from lunch and found that email waiting for me, the invitation to River House Tavern. Not that I was going to cost the company a pretty penny in drinks, but it’d be nice to hang out with the crew in less harrowing circumstances and kick back with them.

“Heh, li’l buddy!” crowed that familiar voice over the cube wall. Tana’s head poked up like a sunrise as she leered at me. Not really a leer, she’s just smiling, but her eyes are naturally wild and her grin is naturally strained so when she’s really happy she looks like she’s about to break out laughing, crying, screaming, or anything else. I’ve learned this over the years of working with her. I‌ look up at her and nod and wave, just to make extra sure she sees me doing it or she’ll come over here.

Her cheeks strain as her grin widens. “You going to the happy hour tonight?”

I‌ take a deep breath and bellow up at her, “Wouldn’t miss it for anything. I’ll drink all y’all under the table.”

She laughs and claps her hands. “How’re you getting there?”

Good question. I check the email on a monitor the size of a billboard. Looks like there’s a couple company shuttles hauling out people who don’t have cars to River House. “Eh, I’ll probably call a Knapa before we all take off, no problem.”

“Nonsense! You’re coming with me, got it?” She tilted her head and waggled her eyebrows with a surprisingly wide range of motion. “You’re my date for the night, Mr. Malina! I’ll pick you up in two hours, okay?” She blew me a kiss and disappeared behind the cube wall. She doesn’t sit there, must’ve been visiting the gal next to me. Goddess only knows what she must think’s going on between us.

I‌ mean, not that she’d be wrong if she really let her imagination fly, but it’s not like we’re a couple or anything.

For the next two hours I hunkered down, wrapping up as many projects as I can before the weekend, and killing time as gainfully as possible. I’d gotten my queue down to nearly nothing but a few long-term tasks, which is rewarding to see, and followed up on my last unread email when I noticed the time. I was so lost in the process, I didn’t notice how the conversational drone had risen in volume, but there it was: everyone’s looking forward to cutting loose! That’s a good sign. I tugged back my sleeve, woke up my Kobaretto, and hailed a ride.

“Uh, uh, uh, Mr. Malina!” I swear to Goddess, I didn’t hear that crazy giantess sneak up behind me. Faster than a snake, her long and slender index finger shot over my shoulder and bumped the screen on my wrist. To my amazement, she actually canceled the ride. How’d she do that? The smartwatch is about the size of a large piece of confetti to her. I looked at it glumly, then turned to face her.

She grinned sunnily down at me, tugging on her long tan London Fog mac. “Did you forget I’m taking you tonight?”

“Well, maybe not forget, but I don’t recall agreeing to any plan with you.”

“Oh, you! Why must you always give me such a hard time? Now, hop aboard!”

Oh, Goddess damn it anyway. She hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her slacks and tugged them open wide, crouching by the edge of my desk. At least she had the decency to shelter the spectacle from prying eyes by forming a curtain with her macintosh, not that it’d take a great leap of imagination to guess what she was doing in such an awkward position at my desk. And speaking of great leaps, I sighed and resigned myself to my fate. With a running start I hopped into the chasm and slid down her quivering belly (she’s ticklish, sometimes) until her nest of pubes caught me. Her huge fingers wiggled at me as she let her pants relax and seal me up, and that was that, off to the races.

I realize that most of you reading this will never be in this situation, so you’re just gonna have to trust me on my advice. The only thing you can do is relax, just let yourself go limp. I know they tell you Bigs to do this in car accidents and such, but I think you’ve got other things on your mind as your vehicle does 60 to zero in one second. Am I‌ wrong? But when you’re resting in the front of a woman’s pants, yeah, just try to stay loose and ride with it. Every step she takes is going to work you down a little further until you’re over the mons, and depending on her underwear, your legs will either poke out through the leg holes and dangle at the top of her inner thighs, or they’ll slide right down into the hammock of her panties. You can control this, of course, guide where you go unless she’s wearing a thong.

Tonight, amazingly, Tana wasn’t wearing a thong. I was glad she remembered to wear underwear at all, so I‌ settled in and let my legs drift down around her labia, and her pubes bloomed in front of me as we walked out of the building. I discovered she was going to take one of the company shuttles after all. I knew she’d driven to work today, so‌ I‌ could only guess she was planning on getting schnockered at this shindig, as long as the suits were picking up the bill. Great.

By the sounds of it, and by that I mean I didn’t recognize the other voices, I was guessing she was riding with people in her department. We work together, but our office floor is broken up into squads and areas, you know, so we’re not technically in the same department. Which meant I was riding in a van of strangers and de facto eavesdropping. I doubted Tana thought about this as she climbed aboard, how awkward it’d make things for everyone if they had any way of learning I was listening in.

“Come on in, make yourself comfortable,” a man’s voice said.

“Oh, I’m quite comfortable already!” she said back, eliciting a little confused laughter from the other passengers. “Is this seat taken?”

Jeez, Tana, lay off the corniness already.

“It’s amazing how many people they can fit in a van like this! Four of us in the middle seat alone.”

Pause; someone chuckled. “Four people? Don’t you mean three?” a woman asked.

“Oh, right! Only three, three of us here! Nobody else here but us three!” She bounced in her seat and giggled like a Goddess-damned schoolgirl. I guess it’s worth noting that her taking a seat didn’t crush my legs or anything. I could feel the seat beneath us, but her crotch didn’t come down as far as her thighs, when she was folded up to sit down like this, and I had plenty of room for my legs. Less room for my body, as in the middle of conversation she decided to cross her legs. Her inner thighs swelled behind my back and clamped me in place. All I could do was sigh and swear in my head, because there was no way for me to explain to her how these things worked. Sometimes I wondered if she were a sociopath-in-training, she had so little empathy for someone as clearly helpless as I. Am.

“I don’t mean to pry, but what’s up with that little man you’re always hanging around?” “Yeah, are you two an item or something?” “Ooh, office romance!”

The gigantic woman pinning me between her thighs giggled again. “Nothing like that! I mean, I’m not sure what you’re talking about. What little man?”

Someone made a sarcastic crack about her nice save. Whoever she was, I liked her.

“I just mean there are so many Tinies in the office, it could be anyone, you know? Can you describe him?”

A woman spoke up, “The one you always sneak off to lunch with.”

“I‌ don’t always sneak off with him! And anyway, I don’t know who you mean.”

This was painful, and I don’t mean the nutcracker she was performing on my entire body. After a couple more circular arguments and inept dodges, Tana persuaded the entire van that this was a pointless discussion and they moved on to other topics. So it went until I heard the engine quiet down and we pulled to a halt. “Have a great time, folks,” called out an older man, presumably the driver. “No one parties like bankers, eh?” That got a roar of approval.

Tana’s massive thighs churned around me as we walked into the River House. “Be there in a minute, guys,” she called out, and her footsteps went from carpet to hardwood floor to the clack of tiles. I knew we were in the women’s room before the blinding light streamed into her underwear as she tugged me out.

“How was the ride, Archie? You okay?” She hoisted me up to her ecstatic expression, and her huge eyes rolled and twitched behind large panels of glass.

“I’m fine. A little rumpled, crushed in places, but I’m fine. I’m glad you didn’t get too aroused on the trip.”

“What, with that load of stiffs? Please.” Her eyelids wrinkled and nearly closed, as a pair of fingernails floated into being beside me. She told me to hold still, and her turquoise nails pinched at my jacket and pants as she plucked stray pubic hairs off my suit. Goddess damn it, anyway.

When I passed inspection, she brought me in close for a big smooch. “Please, Ms. Hands, this is most unbecoming a lady of your stature,” I said, planting my palms on her upper lip and shoving back at her. She laughed, her lips peeling back to expose rows of long, gleaming teeth inches from my body.

“One of these days,” she whispered, “I’m going to take you inside me once and for all, and that’ll be the end of your smart remarks. Do you believe it?”

As long as I’ve known her, I’ve never known how to handle those remarks, when her voice drops and her eyes stop laughing and she holds me right in front of the hole where food goes in to get processed. Is she kidding? Is she threatening me? Has something finally snapped in her?

I‌ tell her I believe her. She brays with laughter, showing off the inner workings of the back of her throat. “I’d never do anything to hurt you, Archie! You get the strangest ideas. Come on, let’s go join the party!” And, clutching me firmly in her fist, she hauled the bathroom door open and charged back into the foyer, where the loyal, haggard employees of Arlington Trust were milling about.

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