Thursdays were the new Friday: hardly any work was done, starting from four pm. Cunningham, obviously, stopped much earlier: it was about three when he stumbled across the office, high on coke and with a few down too. A joy to watch.
Any sort of substance other than water seemed to enhance his nice sunny self, already unbearable ‘au naturel’; this time he aimed for her desk.
Pete, who was her neighbour, looked positively worried; Tan didn’t raise her head, purposely ignoring Cunningham, who was now standing directly facing her, across the desk. She kept writing a few notes, as if nothing was happening.
“Hey Tan! Want some of this?”
When she did look, Cunningham (who had also various nicknames) had undone the zip of his trousers, pulled his pants down and placed his c**k right on her desk.
The man was out of his head! And arrogant. The star of the office, the golden boy, the one million pounds man. Oh, and a major asshole.
The others froze. He was known for stuff like this; it wasn’t pretty to watch.
Tan looked down on her paper and seemed to think. She slowly raised her head, then stood up; looking calm, she walked at his side. She sat on the desk, almost smiling; then, very quickly she grabbed the moron’s balls and stabbed his ribs with a sharp pencil, twice very hard. The huge guy howled in pain; some blood (droplets) was visible on his light blue shirt now. His eyes said it all…
“Now, Cunningham,” Tan hissed, under hear breath, “If you care about having babies at all in a near or not too near future (and bless the woman who will put up with a moron like you), you say sorry.”
Rory Cunningham had gone pale. His breath stunk of brandy. He could have pushed her away, as he was twice her size, but her grab on his balls was very firm and he could feel the sharp nails: he wasn’t happy! That really hurt! The pencil had caused some damage too on the ribs, and he could feel the stabs. But that was the least of his concerns right now; the last junior had run in shame, when he had pulled the very same trick!
“I think you found yourself a feisty one this time,” Tan said, as if reading his thoughts. His face was the picture of surprise and dismay. He looked rather undignified, his c**k out and his balls the object of dubious attention.
“Sorry,” Tan encouraged him, with an evil look in her eyes, mouthing the word.
Oh, that was indeed new. He was shocked by what was happening and in pain; but a remote part of his brain was registering that a girl was holding his balls (far too firmly though) and if unpleasant in one sense, was it not a kind of compliment in another?
Anyway, he did want to keep the option of having babies, eventually, or keeping some functionality.
“Ok! Ok there. No problem. I get it. Now let me go,” he ventured.
She smiled, wickedly. He couldn’t believe it! The bitch was indeed enjoying this!
“Please,” she mouthed, calmly,
“Ok, sorry. And please. Now let me go,” he begged.
Her eyes fixed on him, she paused and then suddenly released the grab. He hurriedly adjusted his trousers to be decent again. She watched him, her eyes fixed on him.
“I’m going to wash my hands, Cunningham. Next time you pull a trick like this, I’ll stub your jewels instead of your ribs. ”
She mimicked a curtsey, weirdly; she turned and went off, holding the arm and hand she had used to grab at some distance, for everyone to see.
There was a pause; then the other guys started laughing, unanimously, some openly, the younger ones under their breath.
“Yes Cunningham, you found yourself a feisty one!” Doug at the far end said. He had seen nothing like this in all his years in the trading office!
“Shut up, moron,” grunted Rory, still high from the coke, and pale.
“I think you’ve found your match here,” Pete said, and he meant it.
“Yeah, we’ll see,” Rory mumbled and went back to his desk, while the others were still laughing.
Needless to say, from that day on, Rory kept a respectful distance between Tan and himself, albeit calling her ‘bitch’ when she was not present. He kept thinking of that firm grab though…