[Trigger warning: Sexual abuse/trauma]
I bet he just left his wedding ring again! I better go see what's happening!
She felt so foolish thinking like that when she obviously knew what was going on in that office behind closed doors during the waking hours of the day. Her boss was a sleazy scum lord who booked women that were dangerously underfed and not taking care of themselves.. he hounded after girls just barely 18, some even before that, and he was grooming them into 'pets' as she'd heard around the office. Women here were groped and fondled, crude jokes made but no one said anything for fear of getting that illustrious pink slip.
Bonnie knew the truth.
And yet there she was, knocking on the textured glass door of her Boss's main office and poking her head inside, "Mr. Donasch are you alright? You never come back in after hours, sir!"
The pungent aroma of B.O, cheap after shave and even cheaper whiskey hit her nostrils like Molly Hayes punching a hole through the front of a semitruck. Bonnie felt the nausea creeping up her throat, hesitating and considering backpeddling immediately after she got a good look at the man hunched over scattered papers and photographs of..
Oh Jesus.
She could see naked women in those images, some looked like her coworkers and others were women she didn't recognize. Back tracking away, just in time for the man to stand and lumber after her, she'd hesitate uncertainly in the hallway when her name left alcohol addled lips.. He had sounded much father away so when the old drunkard loomed over her, she felt that chill of terror creep up and down her spine. She almost couldn't react and respond to the way that massive, clunky and clammy palm wrapped around the dainty width of her wrist. When he didn't stop squeezing and had begun to twist? She panicked, prepared for the worst, Bonnie could feel her heart crawling up into her throat as the man leaned in and sniffed the crook of her neck.
"Ms. Fox. You smell like that cotton candy crap again," A dour, intoxicated laugh left the mans throat as he began to boldly, brazenly attempt to box her into a corner at the end of a hallway, "I've seen how you look at me from your desk- and how you always agree to stay late. You've wanted this for a while haven't you?"
Word vomit sputtered from the normally very collected woman's lips and, without thinking much on it, brought her knee up hard and sharp to deliver a devastating blow to the man's crotch. As he crumpled and doubled over, dropping to the soft beige carpet of their workspace, Bonnie took that opportunity to have those long doe legs carry her as quickly as possible out of the office and building entirely. Thumb clacked out an urgent message to the people on the chat, shaking violently as she canceled the meetup.
What a bummer.
I bet he just left his wedding ring again! I better go see what's happening!
She felt so foolish thinking like that when she obviously knew what was going on in that office behind closed doors during the waking hours of the day. Her boss was a sleazy scum lord who booked women that were dangerously underfed and not taking care of themselves.. he hounded after girls just barely 18, some even before that, and he was grooming them into 'pets' as she'd heard around the office. Women here were groped and fondled, crude jokes made but no one said anything for fear of getting that illustrious pink slip.
Bonnie knew the truth.
And yet there she was, knocking on the textured glass door of her Boss's main office and poking her head inside, "Mr. Donasch are you alright? You never come back in after hours, sir!"
The pungent aroma of B.O, cheap after shave and even cheaper whiskey hit her nostrils like Molly Hayes punching a hole through the front of a semitruck. Bonnie felt the nausea creeping up her throat, hesitating and considering backpeddling immediately after she got a good look at the man hunched over scattered papers and photographs of..
Oh Jesus.
She could see naked women in those images, some looked like her coworkers and others were women she didn't recognize. Back tracking away, just in time for the man to stand and lumber after her, she'd hesitate uncertainly in the hallway when her name left alcohol addled lips.. He had sounded much father away so when the old drunkard loomed over her, she felt that chill of terror creep up and down her spine. She almost couldn't react and respond to the way that massive, clunky and clammy palm wrapped around the dainty width of her wrist. When he didn't stop squeezing and had begun to twist? She panicked, prepared for the worst, Bonnie could feel her heart crawling up into her throat as the man leaned in and sniffed the crook of her neck.
"Ms. Fox. You smell like that cotton candy crap again," A dour, intoxicated laugh left the mans throat as he began to boldly, brazenly attempt to box her into a corner at the end of a hallway, "I've seen how you look at me from your desk- and how you always agree to stay late. You've wanted this for a while haven't you?"
Word vomit sputtered from the normally very collected woman's lips and, without thinking much on it, brought her knee up hard and sharp to deliver a devastating blow to the man's crotch. As he crumpled and doubled over, dropping to the soft beige carpet of their workspace, Bonnie took that opportunity to have those long doe legs carry her as quickly as possible out of the office and building entirely. Thumb clacked out an urgent message to the people on the chat, shaking violently as she canceled the meetup.
What a bummer.
Moderators: Auberon