”“Got it, sir. Reports. End of business. Needle will be moved.”His seething glare tells me he doesn’t care for the condescending attitude. But...I guess he feels as though he has already rained down enough spittle on that once-pristine tabletop; he decides to move on. As we adjourn the hour-long waste of my time, I feel a hand brush my shoulder. It’s one of my co-workers, Kirsten.“Damn, Dennis,” she says, “you’ve got some set on you standing up to the bossman like that.”“Yeah, I guess.”I like. Jessica. Jessica and Linton. Hecould feel the bile and rage burning inside him. Why did she have itall? Why was she allowed to be a somebody? He suspected that she didn'tspend her nights like this. Why was she so fucking happy and he wasn't?He stopped scrolling. His mouse hovered over a photo of her. A selfie,with perfect lighting, of her with perfect make up and perfect hair.That was why. It was because she looked like that. It was because shelooked perfect. Her soft large eyes were rimmed by. Even if someone else came in I was most likely fine because they’d probably assume my stall was just occupied. I heard the lock of Amalie’s stall knock back. I heard one smack of her flip flop against the floor, then another. I was calm; I felt like I had nothing to fear. She didn’t know I was here. Nobody knew that she and I were still completely alone. Maybe, I thought, I could take one more look…No, are you kidding? What about your brother? What about my brother! Shit!Shit. Shit, what was I. The guys didn't hesitate, and they said sure these cunts will dance with you. We got up and started to dance. Since they heard our guys call us cunts they didn't worry as their hands soon made their way to our exposed asses and touching our tits. I looked over to Bill and the he and the other two guys just smiled. They liked the idea of these guys using us just a little as sluts and getting a few free gropes. I could feel the guy dancing with me had a hard on and with one hand squeezing my ass.