Dagenham Desire
"Factory floor supervisor Nneka catches the night shift with the new recruit—thick Jamaican Marcia—and realizes some rules are made to be broken in the breakroom."
Night shift was always slow.
Nneka patrolled the factory floor, checking stations, keeping things moving. The new recruit—Marcia—kept pace better than most.
Thick. Jamaican. Curves that the uniform couldn't hide. A smile that made the fluorescent lights seem warmer.
"You're doing well," Nneka said.
"I aim to please." A wink. "Management."
The breakroom was empty at 3 AM.
Marcia found Nneka there, nursing coffee.
"Mind if I join?"
"It's your break."
"So it is." Marcia sat too close, those thick thighs brushing against Nneka's. "Tell me something, supervisor. You ever break your own rules?"
"Never."
"That's a shame." Her hand found Nneka's knee. "Rules are made to be broken. Among other things."
"This is inappropriate."
"So write me up." Marcia's hand traveled higher. "Or admit you've been watching me like I've been watching you."
"I'm your supervisor."
"Tonight you're just a woman." She stood and straddled Nneka's lap. "And I'm just someone who wants you very, very badly."
They broke every rule in that breakroom.
Marcia rode Nneka's fingers on the plastic chair, moaning in patois. Nneka buried her face between those thick thighs on the break table.
"God—Marcia—we could be caught—"
"Then be quick." She grabbed Nneka's hair. "But not too quick."
The shift ended with both women disheveled.
"Same time tomorrow?" Marcia asked.
"This can't happen again."
"But it will." That smile again. "Because you want it as much as I do."
She walked away, hips swaying.
Nneka knew she was right.
It happened again. And again.
Night shift became their cover.
Factory floor to breakroom to supply closet. Every surface christened with their desire.
"We should stop," Nneka said.
"Probably."
They didn't.
Dagenham's most efficient supervisor had found a reason to love the night shift.
And the new recruit became very, very permanent.