She walked into the manager’s office with tears in her eyes and said, “I think everyone here has decided they hate me.”
I almost felt sorry for her.
She had only been with the company for three months, yet she already had a list of people she claimed were targeting her.
EMPLOYEE: “They exclude me from lunch. They stop talking whenever I walk into a room. Yesterday, three of them went out for coffee and didn’t even ask me.”
MANAGER: “Have you asked them why?”
EMPLOYEE: “Why should I have to beg people to treat me like a human being?”
She wanted the company to investigate what she called a hostile work environment.
The manager asked her to name the people involved.
She gave him six names.
She described one coworker as fake, another as jealous, and another as disrespectful. She even claimed one woman deliberately embarrassed her during meetings.
By the time she finished, it sounded like the entire department had formed a secret club against her.
Then the manager asked one question.
MANAGER: “Do you have anything in writing?”
EMPLOYEE: “No. But everyone knows what they’re doing.”
MANAGER: “That’s not enough for me to accuse six people of misconduct. I’ll need to hear both sides.”
She immediately became frustrated.
EMPLOYEE: “So you’re saying I’m lying?”
MANAGER: “No. I’m saying I need to investigate before making a decision.”
He contacted the six employees separately.
And what they told him was something she clearly hadn’t expected.
The pens arrived three days before the biggest trade show of the year. 10,000 of them, printed with our company logo and slogan.
I opened the box and read the first pen. Then I read it again.
"Hartley Insurance. We've got you cowered."
Cowered. Not covered. Our entire brand promise was a single missing letter away from sounding like a threat.
I called the printer. They said the file we approved had the typo in it and that all sales were final. We had $6,200 sunk into pens and no time to reorder.
My boss, Josh, stared at the box for a full minute. Then he said, "We take them anyway. Make a sign."
The sign said, "Yes, we know. Take a pen anyway."
On day one of the show, a guy took one, laughed, and posted a photo of it online with the caption, "Insurance company promises to make me cower."
I didn't think much of it. Then my phone started buzzing and wouldn't stop.
The picture of my dad’s big cock won’t leave my head. Every night I end up touching myself to the memory of it. I don’t have a boyfriend. I don’t have anyone else. Just the image of him… and my hand between my legs.
I only saw it once an accident, a door left open but it burned itself into me. Thick. Heavy. Bigger than I ever imagined. Now the second the house goes quiet, the memory comes back and my pussy starts throbbing.
I still see my professor’s cock every time I close my eyes, and I don’t know how to stop touching myself to it.
It was a Thursday after class at the university in Tokyo. I needed to ask him about a paper. His office door was open a little. I knocked once and pushed it. He was standing with his back half-turned, changing out of a dress shirt into a normal one. His trousers were undone. I saw it clearly before I could look away. Thick, heavy, resting against his thigh. He turned at the sound. I stepped back into the hallway and said I would come back later. He just nodded. I left.
I still don’t know why I didn’t just walk away when my mother-in-law came out of the bathroom.
My wife had left to meet a friend in Kyoto. I was alone in the house. I heard the shower stop and stayed in the hallway longer than I should have, pretending to look at my phone. The door opened. She stepped out in a towel that barely reached mid-thigh, hair dripping. She saw me. For a moment she just stood there, one hand holding the towel closed. I could see water running down her collarbone. She said my name like she was about to tell me to move. She didn’t.
Varro sold his freedom for his family’s sake and stood as Spartacus’ only true brother in the ludus. While Ashur brought word of reunion, Spartacus watched everything he had fought for slip away. One man was given back what he loved. The other was left with nothing but the scars.