TS Rose releases sexual frustration.
This story is for ADULT amusement only. It contains material of an adult, explicit, SEXUAL nature.
The Cruise just began…..
Enjoy.
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Pressure Valve
“Hey uh, Rose,” a voice said from behind me. I swiveled my chair so that I was facing out of my cubicle. I had my no-nonsense face on and I raised my eyebrows as if to ask, “what?” I didn’t recognize the person standing in front of me. I guess that wasn’t much of a surprise, I worked at a place with a good deal of turnover and it wasn’t unusual to see new and unpleasant faces. This particular face belonged to a man slightly younger than me, maybe 22. He had that shit-eating grin that all college graduates had when they first started working here, despite the fact that he was working entry-level in data-entry and was carrying about thirty extra pounds, mostly in his ass.
Despite my best efforts to non-verbally encourage him to say whatever he was going to say, he just looked at me blankly. He briefly looked over his shoulder at a group of my co-workers. I looked down at my watch and saw that it was 5:15 on a Friday afternoon, so I knew what this was going to be about. I crossed my arms in front of my breasts and placed my hands on my knees.
“Yes new guy, how can I help you,” I said brusquely.
“Oh, uh,” he said. I saw his eyes move over my legs and then to my cleavage and I rolled my eyes. You’d think the company-mandated sexual harassment prevention video would be enough to keep a guy on his toes, but I often found the mouth-breathers in the office had a hard time keeping their eyes to themselves. But men had always looked at me, I suppose. At the time I was 26 years old and at the absolute peak of my bewitching (but cursed) powers. I was 5’3 and around 110lbs. I had very long brown, almost black, hair that I wore straight with short bangs. I had (and have) large dark brown eyes and a small nose. My lips were pouty and a deep red color. My skin was flawless, if a bit pale, and I had a long, delicate neck. My breasts were small, probably 32-B at the time, but they were very perky and fit my slight built. My hips flared slightly wider than my breasts and I had somewhat short and delicately constructed legs. That day I was wearing a white button-up blouse under a gray suit coat and a knee-length gray skirt that had bunch up a little as I’d sat in my chair all day. So I knew what the guy was looking at, even if I didn’t appreciate it.
“Oh, uh?” I said after letting him sputter for just a couple of seconds.
“So,” he said, looking a bit embarrassed and jumping right in, “A couple of us are going out for happy hour, you know, since it’s Friday. And I just thought, I’d, you know, ask if you wanted to go out with us. I think we are going to Winston’s but someone said something about Carter’s…” I lifted up my hand to stop him from speaking.
I hated this. I had no desire to do what I was going to do next. But, it was what I had to do. They forced me into this shit, so this was what was going to happen.
“Listen…” I said and looked at the guy inquisitively.
“Dan,” he said.
“Listen Dan, you are new here I assume. So I am going to make this as painless as possible,” a lie, “If you and I and all of our friends here went out for dinner together we would have a great time. You all would get to know me: the sexy ice queen of the office. But what do I get out of it?”
“I… uh,” Dan started.
“Quiet Dan, a grown-up is talking. You see, you’d get to know me. But I wouldn’t get anything, because I already know you. I knew you the instant you interrupted me from closing down my computer so I could go home. I looked up at saw an overweight man-child with tit-magnets in his eyes. But I saw more than that. I saw that you don’t know that you can’t wear black shoes with a brown belt. I saw that you put your clothes on for the day before you brush your teeth and then don’t check to see if you drool all over yourself. I saw that you don’t shave the corners of your mouth, giving you strange little whiskers. And I saw that you are an idiot, like most of the people who work here. I don’t need a night out drinking while you awkwardly attempt to hit on me; I’ve already figured you out. You’re a buffoon. I don’t want to have a conversation with you about your favorite TV show, your favorite video game, your favorite fishing hole, or your favorite sexual position. Every instant I talk to you or one of the other morons who works here is an instant I don’t get to do something better. So please, thank the people who put you up to this for making both of us feel shitty, and then kindly don’t speak to me again,” I said.
A look of complete shock was plastered across Dan’s face. He’d been relatively polite and felt he’d gotten put through the ringer for no reason. My stomach turned a little, because whatever wounded feeling he had was absolutely correct. I had gone over the line. But I had to. Suddenly, his features twisted into a scowl.
“Fuck you, you frigid… cunt!” he spat at me, closing the circle. Then he turned around and walked into the waiting (and giggling) crowd standing at the door. It spun my chair back around to face my computer.
“Sorry to do that to you man, it is kind of a tradition,” I heard another entry employee say, “Rose is a fucking trip, so we unleash her on the uninitiated.”
“I was just trying to be nice,” I heard Dan say as they walked out the door.
“She might look good, but she is poison,” another voice added.
“Some people are incapable of being decent,” a woman’s voice responded, “Rose just wants to keep all of us out, she thinks she is better than everyone else.” Then I heard them all pile into the elevators and soon I was alone in the office.
The girl who’d spoken last, Carol I think her name was, was only half right. I absolutely did not think I was better than anyone else, in fact, it was the opposite. But I certainly did have an almost obsessive desire to keep people out. I’d built a wall completely around my life and there was absolutely no way I was going to let anyone in. It was just… too dangerous.
As I turned off my computer and stood up from my chair, I thought about how I hadn’t always been that way. In fact, I imagine my co-workers would have been very surprised to find that I was an absolute social butterfly in high school. I was class president, I joined clubs, and I was even voted homecoming queen my junior year. I hadn’t figured out how important it was to be a raging bitch until after college.
It had actually started in college, my “difficult” personality. I’d gone to college as a virgin (trust me, this isn’t completely out of left field, it will make sense). I wasn’t a prude or anything. I’d done the normal teenage stuff, maybe a little less than most but not by a huge margin. I’d given a couple of guys handjobs in the backseats of cars or in basement rumpus rooms and I’d been felt up, but I’d never had sex. Part of it was that I wanted to wait for the freedom of college, away from the prying eyes of parents. The other reason, I suppose the bigger reason, though I didn’t think of it much back then, was that I was (and am) transgendered.
That might not seem like a little detail to tuck into the end of a paragraph, but I swear, up until college it always seemed so… unimportant. I’d known I was a girl from the instant that the concept was possible in my mind. I just never considered myself anything else. My parents were very supportive and started me on hormone therapy at the youngest possible age. I developed just like all the other girls in my class: breasts, flared hips, delicate features, the whole nine yards. The only thing different was a small amount of flesh between my legs. And that never came up. Like I said, I had no interest in having sex before college, so I never had reason to expose anything beyond my breasts to my boyfriends. High school girls, little known fact, don’t spend a whole lot of time discussing their genitals with one another. So, after 18 years of just being myself I went to college expecting that I guess got my first lesson regarding the grave consequences of my ignorance very early in my college career. It had been about two weeks into freshman year. I was living in the dorms at the time. It was a co-ed dorm, with alternating floors of boys and girls. I lived on the girl floor and never thought there was anything strange about it. There was a boy who lived on the floor below me. A cute boy who made me laugh every time we spoke. We had an intro to economics class together and we sat in the back of the room and he did impressions of the professor. One day he asked if I wanted to go out, so I said yes.
I remember the date vividly. It was the high water mark of my social life; it was all downhill from there. Neither of us had a car, so we walked to a restaurant on campus and he bought my dinner. We didn’t know each other too well so we talked about our families and he made jokes about the wait staff. Then we took a bus to a movie and made out the entire time. I don’t even remember what it was. We held hands the whole way back on the bus.
We lived in the same building so it wasn’t like I invited Dave (that was his name) up, we just happened to be on the elevator together. But when I got off at my floor, he followed me. I remember that I was excited. I wanted this to happen, I hadn’t been saving myself for marriage, I was saving myself for college. And this was it. And he was cute and nice and we seemed good together. You might think I am crazy for saying this, but I wasn’t even thinking about my “unique” gender situation at the time. I guess I just didn’t think it would be an issue. We walked into my room and my roommate was gone (out with her boyfriend if I remember). And we started kissing and touching.