Chapter 1 - clocking out

At first, the ticking of the timer drilled a hole into Stephanie’s patience, each click bouncing in her ears and echoing in her skull. But now she found it peaceful and meditative. At least, when she could get herself to focus. The reception area in which she was stationed was an inside room of the suite; she had no direct access to outdoor light and even with the fancy smart-office system… LEDs still did not cut for the real thing. Especially moments like these when her boss deliberately maxed them to full brightness on the whitest setting.

"I suppose there could be worse punishments," Stephanie thought. Her eyes flitted to the office in front of her desk. Its door was firmly closed and the glass panels frosted, obscuring anything from being viewed clearly by an outsider, but Stephanie knew better.

She simply sat at her desk while the timer continue to tick. Her hands remained neatly clasped, the very ends of her palms on the edge of the desk so that her wrists did not touch it. Thick ankles crossed and tucked at the foot of her chair, the only comfort or posture preference she was permitted, due to her pillowy thighs preventing her from keeping her feet flat on the floor when crossed at the ankles.

It wasn’t much of a comfort. Stephanie thanked the lord for creating stretch slacks so that her waistbands neither cut into her nor gaped at the back as she explored different fits and cuts in her work wardrobe. But where she struggled in this position were the armrests of the chair cutting into her hips and above her knees. It was torture and Alan absolutely knew it.

Stephanie knew she could steal a glance at his office door but she wouldn’t dare even try to glance at the timer on her desk. She just had to sit and wait for it to ding. And then, she would be free to go.

But she had to wait for 27 minutes. That was a long time when one couldn’t even look at the damned timer. Only stare ahead.

A dark pool slowly spread on Stephanie’s desk. In the near-silent, spartan office, now devoid of all other staff for the day, she could almost hear the liquid spreading across the glass surface underneath the rhythmic ticking of the timer.

Stephanie bit her lip as the edges of the pool widened, pushing outward, seeping into her periphery. If she could close her eyes longer than a blink without enduring her boss’ ire, she would have squeezed them shut and groaned, hoping that the puddle did not reach the edge of the desk.

The *ding* of the timer jolted Stephanie from her reverie. It was accompanied by a soft click as the office door opened simultaneously.

A tall, wiry man stepped out. Shoulder length gray hair wrapped neatly by a band at the nape of his neck. His suit was closer to a deep charcoal than a pitch black but it was expertly tailored and despite its neutral dark tone, was clearly woven of fine cloth. It was not off the rack, definitely something bespoke. It was not just custom-made from a good tailor; it oozed luxury.

The soft tip-tap of his shoes as he stepped through the door, briefcase and jacket in one hand, and turned to close it were the only sounds that filled the office for several seconds. Despite the fact the timer had finished and they both knew very well that her time was up, Stephanie would not step away from her desk until given permission.

The man advanced toward her desk, moving not slowly, but not in a hurry. Comfortably. It was a pace that suggested he wanted to observe the scenery but still get to his destination just on time and not a minute early or late.

This was Alan.

With every step he took, Stephanie wondered to herself, ensuring her face did not betray her thoughts.

"Why do I put up with this? This man is insane."

He stepped closer.

"Oh that’s right: the pay. And the resume padding… worse than my thighs."

Another step.

"I’m just so glad I have a good therapist. If only I could have contacted his previous assistants…"

Alan’s next advance almost finally closed the space between his office and her desk.

"At least today is over and I can finally go home."

“I appreciate your patience, Miss Stephanie.” Alan’s voice often betrayed his thin frame. It was smooth and deep and oddly rhythmic; she had wondered more than once if he had a past life as a radio host. “Hopefully you have understood the error of your ways and will practice only the most precise care in the future.”

She could hear the smile on his face even if she didn’t quite dare look up at his dark beady eyes just yet. “You have my word, Alan.”

Something shuddered inside her, nearly shaking her to the point of her plump behind jiggling on the chair. Fortunately she was able to control herself.

Alan had never been untoward to her nor anyone else on staff that she had seen or heard. He had never said an unkind word or raised his voice. But there was something piercing and unsettling about him that she could never place. In Stephanie’s life she had endured more than her fair share of weirdos, creeps, and other bad actors that would actively choose to harm her at any opportunity and while she never picked that up from Alan’s behavior, something always lurked beneath the surface. She couldn’t place it.

Perhaps this is just what stupid, filthy, unimaginable wealth did to people. Altered their perception. Alan Barker was a tech giant, a multi-billionaire who had built an empire over decades of work. His background had always been fuzzy and some doubted that even his birth records were real. To no one’s knowledge was he married, had kids, or even extended family—tabloids insisted he had them relocated in witness programs.

Alan was kind enough; not necessarily cold, just not entirely… present. Something was always off with him. Most of the time it didn’t really affect any one in the office. Not even Stephanie who had the mixed fortune of being his first assistant. At least, as far as she could tell.

Then there were times like today when his eccentricities shined.

Stephanie would have never been able to secure a job with his firm if she had any history of tardiness or disorganization and she took great pride in keeping Alan’s calendar efficient and office running smoothly on his behalf. However today she had set down a bottle of soda on her desk 3 minutes before the end of her lunch break and bumped into it was she pulled files to resume a project after lunch. The bottle spilled soda all over her desk, including her work computer.

Due to the nature of the business Alan ran; fortunately, the machine was impervious to sugar, water, and carbonation but cleanup took awhile. And one thing Alan Barker hated was inefficiency and delays.

And so, Stephanie’s punishment was thus: her “carelessness” delayed work by 27 minutes and so should she have her end of day delayed by the same.

In and of itself was simple enough—the few times in her life Stephanie had ever been tardy she had already assumed the role of staying late to make up for the time—but it was the intensity of which the punishment was brought out that gave her pause.

And nothing about Alan’s demeanor ever changed: when delivering his judgment for her error, he had been as kind as he had always been. Even now, greeting her at the end of the day, nary a frequency of ire traveled in his voice as he addressed her.

Even now, when the most unusual request came from his mouth and Stephanie could not help but agree simply out of sheer surprise, Alan did not change a single thing about his tone or body language.

“It appears as though you are not the only person to change my plans today,” he said, stepping over and handing Stephanie her purse and jacket. She stood up, resisting the urge to groan in relief as circulation resumed in her deliciously plump thighs and warmed back down to her toes. “Some friends had to unfortunately announce their absence from my home this evening, where they had accepted an invitation to dine with me. My beloved chef has already prepared the meal and I would loathe to see it go to waste.”

“Oh? That’s a bit unexpected of them. You don’t like to keep company with unreliable people.” Stephanie buttoned up her coat and casually slipped her purse over her shoulder. She shifted from one foot to the other, waiting for him to head to the elevator so she could go. Stephanie rarely felt any insecurity about her size and more often than not genuinely loved her curves and plump frame; bottom-heavy as it was, but she always felt positively enormous standing next to her boss. It made her uncomfortable.

“An astute observation, Stephanie. You’re right; I much prefer to spend my time with those who are dependable. Like you, for example!” He smiled warmly and dropped a hand onto her shoulder. “In fact, I believe I would prefer you to substitute for their company this evening. I’m sure we’ll have an absolute *ball*.”