The more I thought about him, the more fascinated I became. That annoyance and fascination with him had grown into an obsession. My frustration and obsession had turned into lust. I just couldn't stop thinking about him. I couldn't stop wondering why it was that this guy just did it for me in the worst way. It reached the point where every time I was hooking up with a guy, it was Randy I imagined in his place. It was madness.
I never liked the good guys. They were always just so unbelievably dull. But Randy stood out. I hated him, and I hated that I lusted for him. My feelings were certainly passionate, one way another, but I had to figure out which way I truly felt. I had to get to the bottom of my feelings for him, for my own personal sanity. Either I had completely misjudged my own sexual desires, or... I had misjudged Randy. No... no. I was right about him. I was positive on my assumptions about him true.
I became convinced that there was an animal inside Randy, bursting to get out, hidden behind his perfectly tailored suits, and I was the only one that could see it. That was the conclusion I had come to. That his whole act, this whole person he portrayed himself as... it was total BS. I don't think he even was aware of the bullshit he was spewing. I think that he thought he was really that good of a guy. And to get to the bottom of this fascination I had with him, I had to prove him wrong. I had to prove that, behind that nice guy charm and amiable personality, there was a swaggering, cursing sex-god, ready to be brought to the surface. All men had that side of them. Some acted like they didn't, some acted holier than thou, but in the end, they all came crawling, and he was no different.
That was the only possible explanation as to why I couldn't stop thinking about him. There was something about him that I was latching onto, that I was responding to, and that just had to be it. If that wasn't the case, if Randy was as good as he seemed to be, then I had no fucking idea what was going on in me. I would have no explanation about why he pushed all my buttons.
It all had to come to a head at some point. It had to. And it would... during our interview.
This weird sexual tension between us had dragged on long enough. I couldn't take it anymore. He annoyed me so fucking much, but I WANTED him. I wanted him bad. I couldn't think straight around him anymore. No man had ever made me act this way. It wasn't love, or anything like that. No, it was just... when I was around him, seeing his smile, smelling his natural scent... he made my body shiver. I had never wanted to spread my legs for any guy more than I did for him.
He was so wrong for me. He was the good guy, Mr. Perfect, the apple of his mother's eye, who spent his free time helping others. I was the office skank, a girl others look down upon, who spends most of her free time taking excessive amounts of dick in her holes.
I was convinced that, deep down, he liked me. In my interactions with him, he never looked down on me for my slutty behavior. He always treated me fairly, when others didn't. He didn't judge me for my choices. He gave me that same charming smile he gave everyone else.
It seems as if perfect Randy had a soft spot in his heart for the office slut.
I planned to exploit that bit of kindness. Tear him apart, draw out the beast in him, and bring it to the surface. I would make him fuck me. I would command it, and like the good guy he may be, he would comply. I would convince him logically that he had no choice but to do me, to get balls deep in the office slut. And once he did, this company would be in the palm of my hand, as would his heavy, swollen balls.
I was gonna use his words against him. I would use his guide as a weapon, a step-by-step guide on how I would convince him to fuck me. I had it all planned out and ready to go.
I would make him mine. I would shatter the glass ceiling, and convince the office good-guy to hire the office slut. I had to prove to everyone how right I was about perfect Randy. I wanted to ruin him. I wanted to destroy his seemly perfect image. I wanted to deface the piece of art that was his charmed life. The thought of doing that, of exposing the truth behind his act... it was intoxicating. I would corrupt the office saint and bring him down. I will make his dad hate him.
The thought of all the bosses seeing this anointed symbol of all that is good and true fall victim to the office slut made me dripping wet.
Randy would be mine.
The morning of the interview, I looked into the mirror.