Chapter 9

Krystal had to call in sick on Tuesday and Wednesday. Her office didn’t allow her bereavement days because she wasn’t directly related to the deceased, so she took two personal days. It was a good choice since the media was going crazy over Evan’s arrest.

She spent the days curled up in her bed, crying, thinking, and masturbating, the cycle repeating endlessly. She tried to stay numb, but the pain was overwhelming. When the grief became too much, she would pleasure herself. It was the only way to escape, even for a short time.

She was thankful that Jasmine’s funeral wouldn’t be until Sunday. The thought of attending it, surrounded by people, the grief and loss, it was almost too much. But Krystal knew if something happened and her Saturday plans changed, she would be there.

When Thursday rolled around, she forced herself to get out of bed and get ready for work. Her clit was raw from touching it so much, her pussy sore from the constant stimulation. But she needed the distraction, the repetitive motion of her work routine.

“You’ve got this,” she whispered, staring at her reflection.

She was wearing a tight pair of black jeans, a low cut top that showed off her cleavage, and a pair of heels that added a few inches to her frame. Her makeup was simple, her eyes rimmed with dark liner, her lips a subtle shade of pink. She looked amazing, sexy, confident. But it was just a mask she had perfected over the years.

“Let’s do this,” she said, giving her reflection a nod.

When Krystal arrived at work, she could see the office was abuzz with gossip and whispers. The news of Jasmine’s death had spread, and everyone was talking about it. She did her best to ignore the stares and hushed voices as she made her way to her cubicle.

“Hey,” Tom said, getting her attention.

“Hey,” she replied, a weak smile on her face as she walked by.

“Wait,” he said, grabbing her arm.

“What?” She asked, looking down at his hand.

“I just wanted to see how you’re doing,” he said, letting go.

“Really, Tom?” She asked, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Or do you just want to use me to fulfill your pedophilic fantasies?”

“Hey,” Tom whispered. “You’re the one who came back to my place. And you were the one who started that roleplay. Not me.”

“I was vulnerable and alone,” she shot back.

“Well I was trying to be nice, but if you ever feel that way again.” His concerned face twisted into a smirk. “Daddy’s dick is here for you.”

“Fuck you.” Krystal said as she pulled away and stormed off.

As Krystal walked away, her mind replayed the events from that night. How her desperation had clouded her judgment, and how she had used Tom to fill a void in her heart. She hated that he was right, but she hated herself even more for how she had treated him. It wasn’t his fault that he felt the way that he did, and exploiting that was a cruel and disgusting thing to do. She did play into his pedophilic fantasies, and she had no one to blame but herself.

“Shit,” She sighed, turning back to where Tom was standing.

His face had changed again, looking almost hurt. He was staring down at the floor, his expression one of regret.

“Hey, sorry.” Krystal said, making her way back to him. “I was being a bitch. I didn’t mean to snap at you. I’m just ... going through a lot right now.”

“It’s okay, I’m sorry for what I said too,” he said, his voice sincere. “You’re going through a lot. Just know that if you need someone to talk to, or a distraction, I’m here.”

“I appreciate that,” she said, her voice soft. “I’m just going to focus on work for now, and maybe after, we can go grab a drink.”

“That sounds good,” Tom said, his smile returning.

“Cool,” she said, giving him a smile.

“Thanks, Krystal,” Tom whispered, his eyes locked on hers.

“For what?”

“For understanding my...”

“Of course,” she cut him off, giving his arm a squeeze. “And your secret is safe with me.”

“Really?” Tom’s eyes widened.

“Yeah, we all have our thing, you know? Yours is just a little more ... But I get it. I have my own stuff I deal with.”

“Thank you,” he said, pulling her into a hug. “You’re the best, Krystal.”

“No problem,” she said, pulling away. “See you later.”

“Bye,” he said, his smile growing.

Krystal turned and walked away and the brief moment of comradery slipped through her fingers. It was strange, to feel a sense of kinship with someone like Tom. He was a pervert, a creep, a pedophile, and yet, he was still a person. A person who felt things, a person who could be hurt. And in that moment, she realized he was just as broken as her, just in a different way.

As she made her way back to her cubicle, the familiar weight of the world pressed down on her. Her life had become a series of moments, each one fleeting, each one temporary, each one a Band-Aid over the void inside her.

Krystal stopped outside her cubicle and looked across the hall at Jasmine’s empty desk. Her chair was still there, her laptop and other belongings were gone. It was a haunting sight, a reminder of the life that had been snuffed out, a life that she never fully lived.

“Uhm, hi?”

Krystal turned to see a woman standing next to her, a shy smile on her face. She was wearing a short skirt and a blouse that was unbuttoned low, showing off her ample cleavage. Her hair was long and blonde, and her makeup was perfect. Her blue eyes stood out against her pale white skin and she had a pair of glasses resting on her nose.

“Hello?” Krystal asked, a confused expression on her face as she didn’t recognize the girl.

“Sorry,” the woman said, her voice soft. “I just need to get into my cubicle.”

“Oh,” Krystal said, stepping out of the way.

“Sorry, it’s my first day here,” the woman said, taking her seat. “I’m Emily, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you,” Krystal said, a weak smile on her face.

“I guess I’m taking over for whoever it was that worked here before. I was training yesterday but they said I could ask the girl across the hall if I had questions. Is that you?”

“Jasmine,” Krystal whispered.

“What?” Emily asked, a confused look on her face.

“Her name was Jasmine,” Krystal said, her voice strained.

“Oh, uh, I’m sorry,” Emily said, a nervous smile on her face. “Did you know her well?”

“Yeah,” Krystal said, fighting back tears.

“Wow, uh, I’m really sorry,” Emily said. “I didn’t mean to, uh, bring up bad memories.”

“It’s fine,” Krystal said, wiping away a tear. “I’m just gonna get to work.”

“Okay,” Emily said, giving her an apologetic smile.

Krystal walked into her cubicle and sat down, a heavy sigh escaping her lips. She could feel the emotions bubbling up inside her, the pain and sorrow threatening to consume her. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to push them down.

They had replaced Jasmine’s position within days, probably hours. And the new girl was sitting there like nothing had happened, because to her, nothing had. Jasmine’s life meant nothing to her, her life meant nothing to the company, and that hurt. It hurt more than Krystal thought possible.

She opened her eyes and looked at her monitor, the words blurring together. She blinked away the tears and tried to focus, but her mind was racing. She couldn’t concentrate. She grabbed her purse and stood up, her legs shaking. She took a deep breath and walked to the bathroom, the familiar feeling of dread washing over her.

Krystal stepped into the bathroom and the room was quiet, the silence only broken by the sound of her heels on the tile floor. She walked to the end of the row of stalls and ducked inside the last one, closing the door behind her. She could feel the pressure building, the emotions threatening to break free.

She quickly unzipped her tight jeans and shuffled them down around her ankles. She hooked her fingers into her panties and pulled them down, her skin tingling as the cool air hit her pussy. Krystal sat down on the toilet, the seat cool against her ass, and spread her legs. She reached down and began rubbing her clit, her fingers moving in small circles, the warmth of her pussy radiating through her body.

She closed her eyes and tried to clear her mind, the image of Jasmine’s smile filling her thoughts. The memories flooded back, the laughter, the conversations, the friendship they had shared.

Tears rolled down Krystal’s cheeks as she rubbed her clit, the pain of loss mixing with the pleasure of her touch. Her breath quickened, her body responding to the stimulation, the sensations rippling through her. Her thighs shook, her heart raced, and the ache inside her grew. The memories, the pain, the grief, it was all too much.

Then she remember that she never got the chance to show Jasmine her boobs. Something she was so excited about. Something Krystal said she’d have to wait until Monday for, but her Monday never came. A wave of guilt washed over her as she continued to touch herself, the conflicting emotions fueling her arousal.

“Fuck!” Krystal grunted, her body shaking as her orgasm washed over her, her pussy pulsing with pleasure.

She continued to rub herself and ride her orgasm, her eyes closed, the tears streaming down her face, her chest heaving. The pleasure slowly faded, and the weight of the world settled back on her shoulders. Her eyes were like waterfalls, the sadness pouring out of her, the pain crushing.

“I’m so sorry,” she sobbed, sliding her fingers inside her pussy, as if filling the hole there would fix the one in her heart.

Her fingers pumped in and out, her thumb working her clit, her mind replayed the memories. It was like a knife twisting in her chest, the ache in her heart growing with every passing second. She wanted the pain to stop, she wanted the memories to fade, and she wanted the grief to end.

“God damnit,” Krystal cried, her body shaking as another orgasm tore through her, her pussy gripping her fingers tightly.

She let her fingers slide out and she sat back, the tears falling freely. She stared at the ceiling, finally feeling an ounce of peace, the release of the second orgasm had finally numbed her emotions, at least for a moment. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, remembering she was still at work.

“Get it together, Krystal,” she muttered, wiping away the tears.

She stood and pulled her panties and jeans up, the fabric tight against her sensitive skin. She fixed her clothes and left the stall to check her reflection in the mirror, seeing her makeup slightly smeared.

“Great,” she sighed, wiping away the streaks of mascara.

She finished fixing her appearance and walked out of the bathroom, her heels clicking on the tile floor. She made her way back to her cubicle and sat down, the familiar hum of the office filling her ears. She took a deep breath and opened her emails, the list of tasks staring back at her.