Julie and the Office Bull

As chat up lines go it was certainly different.
“At least give us your knickers to sniff then.” My colleague suggested with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Stevie Taylor was the IT King at Owen Martins and was known as ‘the Office Bull’ because he had a reputation for bedding a lot of women including several female members of staff… but he was also the sleaziest man in the world. He made my flesh creep and turned me on in equal measures.

“Nooooooooo I will not!” I sighed as I dismissed his request.

This was the Monday of the second week Stevie and I had worked long hours re-programming and updating the company data base and as usual, he was taking every opportunity to introduce sex into the conversation. Although I’d worked for the Company for over 3 years this was the first time I’d ever had to work closely with him and it was a little bit unnerving.

“I bet you wear really sexy knickers,” the pervert continued, “a thong? A tiny G-string? Open crotch? Yes…that’s it!” Stevie chuckled when I glared at him, “I bet you’re wearing cheap, red tacky open-crotch knickers!”

“I am not!” I maintained, “Now let’s get back to work”. I knew I should ignore him but he just kept going on and on like yappy terrier.

Stevie was incorrigible; all he seemed to do whenever I saw him at lunch or whatever was talk about sex; his conquests at the weekend, his potential conquests, magazines that he’d seen, porn on the internet and girls he wanted to have sex with – detailing exactly what he wanted to do to and with them.

I look back now and it was probably ‘sexual harassment in the workplace’, but Stevie was one of those people that oozed charm and charisma meaning that everyone just laughed along with him.

“So what type are you wearing then?” The hairy faced geek continued beating me down.

“I’m not telling you!” I was becoming flustered now but I wondered if it would be simpler just to tell him. This was the third night in a row this week, for us to work together until midnight. Stevie had finished his part of the job so had spent the last hour or so asking me to go into the toilets for a ‘quick shag because his nuts were busting’ and I consistently refused his lecherous request.

It wasn’t that I didn’t want to but I couldn’t, could I? I’m Julie; 39 years old, married with 2 teenage sons, a Senior HR Executive and I’ve been told that I look a bit like the red-headed singer Reba McIntyre and I’m bored shitless with my life!

“I’m not even your type.” I muttered as I kept furiously typing so I didn’t have to think about him and what he wanted to do with me.

“So,” the Gremlin grinned, “what is my type, then?”

I shrugged my shoulders, “Common, slutty, trampy, easy women that wear too much make-up and not enough clothes…..tarts!” I felt like I’d won a small victory when he finally fell silent for a moment or two.

“I’ve got to admit,” Stevie heaved a sigh as he eased closer to me slowly enunciating every word slowly into my ear, “Actually….I have fucked a lot of women like that…but I like a challenge too and I’ve literally fucked the arse off scores of women just like you!”

He was so close to me now I could smell him. It wasn’t a bad smell but not a pleasant one either…just ‘his smell’. He was quite a bit younger than me – in his mid twenties and had dark shaggy hair. He hardly ever shaved and dressed very casually which made him stand out in our very conservative office. His choice of clothes always looked like someone else did his shopping for him. Nothing ever matched and he did like bright colours which is always unusual in a man. He probably thought he looked a bit like Brad Pitt or that singer in Oasis.

I on the other hand am always immaculately dressed in smart business attire; usually from M& S but sometimes with a few Designer names added for extra effect.

“What do you mean ‘women like me’?” I nervously asked as I typed so fast it looked like I was using a foreign language – thank God for ‘spell check’.

He smiled, guessing that he was making progress. It was an easy-going smile. A confident smile. A predator’s smile. The smile I presume a lion smiles just before it sinks its teeth into a zebra at a water hole.

“Women who are married but bored. Women who have deep dark desires that they want fulfilling; but don’t know how to go about it.” Stevie’s voice had now dropped several octaves and was becoming very husky….which could have been the result of the 40 cigarettes a day he smoked.

That was ‘his smell’! Cigarettes, beer and cheap cologne! Hooray! I’d cracked it!

“They’ve usually got the looks, the career, the clothes, the house, the big flash car, the holidays abroad but….” He paused as I stopped typing, my fingers frozen to the keyboard, “but deep down they need some passion put back into their lives!”