>[x] Let's go.
You enter the vast, amber-lit conference hall on the fifth floor, where a full house already awaits. Public speaking doesn't frighten you or anything, and in fact you always acquit yourself well when you do it. You despise it all the same. You'd rather be anywhere but here.
Rose smiles warmly at you as you enter. It's the first time you've seen each other since the crazy events of yesterday. You suppose you owe her something like a thank you for sending Saul to your aid. Without that, who knows where you'd be right now. Guantanamo Bay, probably. Or worse.
Vivian scurries to take her place front and center in the auditorium. Despite her distaste for the concept of sensitivity training, she seems at least excited to see you speak. She trips over people's feet as she side-steps and crab walks past their seats. She's moving so swiftly that even in their panic, they cannot get out of her way quickly enough. She stubs her toe at one point, letting out a pained little "oof" -- before finally settling in an empty chair near the middle of the front row.
You throw your arms wide as you stride past the crowd yourself now, towards the little table where Rose sits demurely with her laptop hooked up to the giant projector screen. "I'm here, thanks for waiting," you tell Rose loudly enough for the whole room to hear. "Now we can begin, woman."
Rose's only outward sign of frustration a little huff and a slight shake of her head. She faces the room. "Alabaster is kicking things off with a little role-playing to show what inappropriate workplace conduct looks like."
"That's right," you aver, sitting down right beside her and getting yourself wired up with a mic. "Rose and I are super into roleplaying. We roleplay all the time."
The room snickers. Rose turns a shade of red. Still smiling, she mutes her mic and whispers out of the corner of her mouth, stealthily, with the skill of a ventriloquist: "don't fuck this up, Alabaster. I'm warning you."
You scribble on a piece of paper and pass it to her.
It says, simply: "thank you for yesterday."
Rose's reaction to this is like a little kid opening a present on Christmas. She blinks rapidly and stares at the paper like she can't believe it. The mood whiplash here is evident on her face.
You catch Steven Armstrong's eye. He's up front, near Vivian. "Steven," you say chummily, "is there any kind of sign up sheet or proof of attendance we need to pass around?"
He shakes his head. "That's an HR thing. You'll need to ask Spancer. I handle nothing personnel, kid."
"Well, we'll do it like this," you tell the room. "Send an email to Rose confirming that you attended today. That'll be your proof that you were here."
Rose closes her eyes and sighs in frustration. She can already picture her inbox getting cluttered up, you're sure of it.
But she's back to it in no time. That's Rose for you: the perfect socialite, the perfect presenter. How many student council speeches of hers did you try to ruin by getting under her skin? You hardly ever succeeded.
"Alabaster," she says, "Since you're so talkative, why don't you begin? You're as well acquainted with the presentation as I am."
She cues the introduction slide onto the projector screen. So she wants to play like that -- throw you off your game, too.
You look back at the giant powerpoint slide. "Right," you say. "The purpose of today's presentation... racial sensitivity... sexual harassment... inclusion... uh..." You look back at the crowd. "Basically, the purpose of today's presentation is to hammer home how awful straight white guys like me are."
"Straight?" Rose cuts in.
You stutter only a little bit as you continue: "And to make sure that we keep those people in check, because otherwise they'd go around punching black people and raping women all day long. Anything else you'd like to say, Rose?"
"No," she says to the crowd, folding her hands one on top of the other. "Just what Alabaster said -- only unironically."
She clicks forward to the next slide. "As you may have read in the news, Silicon Valley has a problem with so-called 'bro culture'. I think Alabaster has cut right to the heart of the problem, even if he doesn't realize it, so we'll begin with some headlines from other companies that we definitely don't want to see repeated here..."
You zone out while Rose continues her little spiel. It honestly bores you to tears, which is why you haven't bothered to even review the presentation since you put it together with her a couple weeks ago. Instead, you find your eyes wandering -- and notice that the table you're seated at has a cloth over the top of it which goes almost all the way down to the floor. A perverted synapse fires in your brain as you see this.
"...and of course, the less said about Google, the better," Rose is saying. "Hopefully we'll own them soon enough, so behavior like THAT can be curbed..." Uncomfortable laughter from the audience at this.
Rose tenses as if struck by lightning as your hand begins to wander up her thigh.
Your grip is feather-light, but unmistakable against the fleshy contours of her upper leg. Like a champ, though, she hardly misses a beat. "Sexual harassment," she continues, "is one of the most pervasive and problematic aspects of modern Silicon Valley culture. In workplaces around the valley-- ghh--!!"
You've only just flipped up her pleated skirt, but that's enough to shock her silent for a palpable moment.
"It's a really big problem," you add, filling in the silence for her, as your palm against her soft skin wanders north, nearly to the outer edges of her plump butt.
"R-right," Rose says. "And many companies have suffered.... e-extremely expensive litigation because of it..." she clicks forward to another slide.
Rose's ass is like putty, all give, as you swipe your hand underneath her. She jostles in place and you notice a fat pearl of sweat form on her brow. She has absolutely no idea how to handle this. You're molesting her, there's no mistaking it - openly and in public. She can't leave, because she's in the middle of presenting, and she can't bear the humiliation of letting on that you're touching her like this. You have her completely trapped.
"P-please..." she stammers, minimizing the powerpoint presentation and hurriedly navigating through her desktop. "Uh... please, watch this short video a-about..."
You grab her tightly, squeezing the globe of her ass with all your strength. She squeaks loudly before goign on.
"S-s-s-ssexual m-misconduct... the v-video... it's quite illuminating..."
A bland training video fills the projector screen. Rose is too taken aback by what you're doing to even move the mouse cursor out of the way, so it hovers in place over the bad acting, and the progress bar stays in place over the bottom.
She has the presence of mind at least to mute her mic again. "What are you doing?" she hisses. "Take your hands off of me, you... you pig... nnn~"
She grimaces and grits her teeth as your finger tickles her deliciously tight, puckered anus.
"You... are... the worst..." she whispers.
"I've been getting that lately," you whisper back. "But you didn't wear panties today... so isn't this kind of your fault?"
"You TOLD me..."
"Sexual harassment," the narrator in the video intones. "It could happen to you."
You take your hand from her butt and move it around to the front, towards her already wettening crotch. "See?" you whisper. "You like it. You like it when I touch you... you're just a fucking slut. That's why you came here without panties, isn't it."
"FUCK you," she sneers, and even though she's whispering, the confused glances from the front row must mean it was loud enough for others to hear. Vivian in particular seems way more interested in the weirdness happening at the presenter's table than what's going on in the video.
Rose's little pussy is as soft and pliable as the rest of her, and it drools lewdly over your fingers. She tries, too late, to clamp her legs shut to deny you access. All this does is trap your hand against the searing heat emanating from her needful genitals.
The video isn't long, and as you rub against her creaming cunt and her flexing thighs - as she squirms and fidgets in her seat - you notice the progress bar is getting pretty close to the end. She'll have to take over again, and soon.
You take control of the mouse while Rose isn't looking and close the video prematurely, just to really put it to her.
She snaps her head up, no longer focused on the lewd sensations in her cunt. The whole room's eyes are on her.
"That's enough of that," you say. "Rose, let's get back to the real meat of the presentation. Take it away..."
You punctuate this by shoving your index finger inside of her. Her velvety smooth hole gives way instantly and accepts you, oozing girlcum all around you.
Rose is sweating and deeply flushed. She tries, and fails, to regain her composure. "T-the key component," she says, "fff-- the key component - of any sexual harassment policy-- fff-- is always-- is always-- FUCK..."
A shocked little gasp in the room at this. Rose tries to right the sinking ship.
"The key component is the red light... yellow light... green light... green light... green light..."
She humps rhythmically against your invading digits, as you slip another inside her. Her voice goes staccato and she moans in spite of herself, for the whole room to hear.
"Jerk me off," you whisper from the corner of your mouth.
She looks at you. Her eyes go wide, a silent plea -- begging you not to make her.
You're not going to bend. "Do it, you fucking cunt."
Her hand reaches down surreptitiously and finds your zipper. She undoes it and pulls out your already leaking cock. The cool air of the conference hall feels wonderful against its insistent heat and hardness. She wraps her fingers around you, softly. You can feel her shaking, and it only adds to your pleasure.
She tries to continue presenting her slides. "L-like a traffic signal, it's a method to... assess... the appropriateness of a situation... oh GOD..."
Her pussy spasms around your fingers and you feel little spurts of her cream from deep inside. She begins to tug your dick in earnest now -- whether out of fear of what you might do if she refuses, or perhaps because she's getting into it, too.
The pleasure of being jerked off in front of hundreds of people without their knowledge is utterly decadent. You can actually feel your cockhead pulse and dribble every time her warm, smooth palm passes over it.
"...yellow means d-danger, and... and... green... means... go! Go! Green means do it! Fuck! Do it! Do it for me!"
Utterly forgetting herself, Rose grabs your arm and leans against it, forcing your fingers deeper inside and practically using you as a living dildo. Simultaneously, she tightens her grip against your prick, too. She jerks you off so quickly and with so much force that you're sure the sound of it is picking up on the microphone. The crowd, whispering among themselves, seems unsure whether Rose is ill, crazy, or... something else entirely.
But you know the truth. Despite her insistence that she hates this, she loves it, and she's cumming herself fucking stupid. She's addicted to this feeling and she wants to make you cum, too.
You need to take this over from her, or the crowd will realize what's going on. You grab the clicker and try to read the bullet points... something about paying attention to the feelings of others and putting yourself in their shoes. You read by rote, but your vision is going all blurry and you're really paying attention to the swaying, sweating, cumming girl gripping you tightly - to her hand that's doing its best to bring you off.
"So..." you say, clearing your throat, "the main skill we seek to impart-- is empathy-- uhhh, emp-a-thy--"
You grunt slightly as Rose's long fingers, slick with your precum, unfurl to tickle your balls at the same time as she masturbates you.
"Empathy is the most important thing... so that we can all... we can all come..." you stutter. "So we can all come... come..." your balls tighten and you can feel the semen racing up your shaft. You're getting as blissed-out and stupid as Rose, despite yourself. You take your hand from her pussy and throw it over her shoulder, in a way that might seem friendly. She leans against you, eyes half-lidded, still masturbating you shamelessly.
"So we can all... come... to a common understanding..." you grunt, your voice deep and gravelly. "R-right, Rose?"
"Yes..." she coos. "So we can all come..."
Your neck muscles tense and your legs go rigid. You brush her cheek with the hand that was so recently inside of her and she takes this as a cue to suck your fingers clean. She actually latches onto your fingers with her lips, in full view of the audience, and sucks her own cum off of them. The slurping is achingly loud and definitely picks up on the mic.
This is finally enough to send you over the edge. You cum in thick spurts all over her fingers and she sighs in exhilaration, staring wantonly down at the sight, one hand curled to her chin. She keeps sucking your fingers clean. You buck and whinny, totally at her mercy - her tongue finding the crevices between your fingers, her palm squeezing out your pearl-white semen as she watches on with smug satisfaction - how did it end like this?
You lean in and soon your forehead is resting against the cloth tabletop. Rose is still resting against your shoulder. Neither of you are even pretending to present.
"I think we should all take a break," you hear Vivian Darkbloom's voice announce. "Let us continue in fifteen minutes."