The Darkroom
by Emyster
Disclaimers: There be sex here. (Yay sex!) And the sex is between two persons of the female persuasion so if that kind of thing bothers you, lighten up. You also should skip this story. Oh, and if you're a young 'un (under eighteen), go away. You shouldn't be reading this at all. So there.

Thanks on this one goes to the women with the red pen. She be magical.

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Copyright © 2004 by Emyster. All Rights Reserved.

I sat in the darkroom listening to Van Morrison's Moondance as loud as the boombox would go. The old equipment was being persnickety as usual. The clank and shoosh of the machine chewing up and splicing the 35mm film together and then spitting out the remainder pieces of the canisters on the floor, made for very loud fun.

But the best part of this job was all the time you had to think while doing meaningless tasks with really loud music in the background. I could sing at the top of my lungs and no one would hear me, thank god. My job rocked.

There were four darkrooms, each measuring about six feet by eight feet.. A person could sit on the rolling stool and move around slightly to each side of the machine. It was so small, there was barely enough room for another body to stand behind you. Each dark room had a curtain that was closed with a zipper while you worked. On the off chance someone came into the space, they didn't expose the film. These rooms usually got very warm, being so small and having equipment that spliced film together with heat. The place literally cooked. You usually wore shorts and tank tops in these rooms all year round.

In my room I always had a large water bottle that sat next to me, which I filled with ice on each break. Also in my space was a boom box with extra amplified speakers that I hung from each corner to get better sound. I had this job for over a year and this particular darkroom room was considered all mine. When I went on vacation, people were always willing to cover my shift because I had spent the extra time and energy to make the little hell hole an easy place to work.

It was a stormy Friday night and I was getting back from a two week vacation. Walking in on your first day back from any vacation is always a bummer but I was kind of looking forward to my time alone in the darkroom.. I strolled to the break room where the lockers were. Said my hello's to a few co-workers and chatted about my vacation to the coast where I did nothing but read for two solid weeks. They all thought I was nuts, but I had a great time.

I was the night supervisor (also known as baby sitter). In this photo lab there were only five of us on the Sunday - Thursday swing/graveyard shift.. I was known as a working supervisor. That meant I trained, did budgets, performance evaluations and was basically responsible for shit getting done by the end of the shift.

My crew worked a ten hour shift: 3pm to 2am with a nifty one hour lunch. Stupid actually, where do you go for lunch that time of night? Where? Bars, that's where. We knew every pub or diner within a mile of the lab. My team was great. I inherited them from the previous manager and we all got along fabulously.

I was pulling off my sweatshirt and sweat pants and stripping down to my shorts and tank when Gary, my manager, walked in. As he was chatting away about shit that happened while I was gone he threw in a comment about the "new one." I stopped and looked at him. "New? Who's new and why?"

He fed me this line about management wanting to make sure everyone was safe. And having me splicing with the rest of the crew meant there should be a responsible body keeping an eye out for us. The reality was we both knew this was bullshit. Sure I was a little young and rough for upper management to accept, but my numbers where excellent so they allowed me to get my way. This was a way to save face for them. They had hired a new Manager. Someone to help take the load off me. Right. They hired a mouthpiece who had never worked a day in their life other than paper pushing. Just what I needed. Oh well, welcome back.

Gary apologized and whimpered that the new manager had made some policy changes while I was gone. Great. The night was looking better all the time. He also mentioned she wanted to talk with me in her office before I started in the darkroom. Fuck, I wouldn't have stripped down if I had known I was gonna have to go be nice. Gary high-tailed it out of there and I walked down the hall to my now shared office and opened the door.

She was sitting there in her polo and khakis waiting to meet me. She almost looked scared. She stood up from my desk and said, "Welcome back. I'm Michelle." She reached out to shake my hand.

I almost laughed. She looked twelve years old. She was maybe 5'2'. She had short, cropped blonde hair. I highly doubted it was real. Being my usual cocky self, I refused to shake her hand. Instead I asked, "Enjoying my desk?"

She stumbled for a second in thought. I took the opportunity to check her out thoroughly. As I was looking up, I saw she was staring right at me. "Like what you see?" she asked.

"It's okay." I raised my hands, posing for effect. "What about you? Do you like?" She blushed and kept silent.

The moment passed and she sat down and started rummaging through papers. I told her to enjoy herself and started for the door. I informed her if she needed help I would be in room four. As I was walking down the hall, I heard her yell, "I know exactly where to find you. Expect a visit." Yeah, that was exactly what I needed.

The night wore on and still no visit. Actually I figured she wouldn't dare visit me in my room. It was way too close. I had just finished a roll and was packing it up and getting ready to go into the light and have a break when I heard loud knocking. The crew knew there was no chance in hell I would have heard it if the machine had been running, so I figured it had to be Michelle. I decided to ignore her and skip my break. I cranked up Van and loaded an empty reel into the machine.

I had just started getting into a rhythm of splicing when I sensed someone behind me. I stopped but then a hand lowered itself on my right shoulder. I felt her breath on my neck as she leaned down and said, "Don't stop." I was intrigued but kept working. Every nerve in my body was on high alert.

We continued like this for maybe five minutes. Then she slid her hand down my arm and leaned into me. With her breasts pressing into my back, she reached over my left shoulder to the boombox, turned up "Into the Mystic" and whispered, "I love this song." She grabbed my water bottle and leaned back. I was hot in so many ways at this point. The heat was bad enough but her pressing against me had totally turned me on. Sweat beaded all along my neck and arms.

Then I felt it. The shockingly cold ice was slowly being applied around the back of my neck. "Don't stop," she told me. Hell I was thinking the same thing.

Michelle retrieved more ice and moved her hand down the front of my shirt. I was desperately trying to keep my mind on splicing film while my body was on fire. She pinched and pulled my nipples and moved the ice over them causing me to moan. I kept working while her hand moved lower to my lap. She slid her finger in my shorts and stroked me through my already soaked underwear. The heat, the scent, her hand--all completely filled my senses..

I tried to keep going but faltered. She whispered, "If you stop, so do I." I concentrated and continued working at a very slow pace. Her hands were everywhere. She slipped them across my clit as I desperately tried to continue splicing film. I felt her kicking all the film can remnants away as she knelt down and moved in to lick my lower back. Her hands were busy in the front and continued to stroke and pinch.

I felt her fingers pushing for space so I moved to the edge of my stool, trying to be careful not to fall off or stop splicing. She slipped two fingers into me. She knew I was close. "Do you want to come?" she asked.

"Yes!" I cried. Her teeth bit down on my back while her fingers pushed into me and stroked my clit as I came. I finally stopped and grabbed the machine for balance. She slowly removed her hand and rose.

I started breathing again and swiveled around so fast I almost knocked her over. I stood and pushed her against the wall. My hands moved down her body. Her polo was soaked with sweat. I couldn't hear anything other than Van and the blood pumping way too fast in my veins.

I kissed her hard. She kissed me back. I untucked her shirt in one quick move and pulled it off. I threw some ice in my mouth and traveled down her body kissing and licking. I reached for the clasp on her bra and realized it was in the front. Shit. I quickly unsnapped it and grabbed more ice. I nibbled and bit her as I moved my mouth to her breasts. I could hear her words of encouragement and her hands were roaming as well. I licked and sucked one nipple while my fingers gently pulled and twisted the other.

I stood and moved toward my machine, pushing it to the side to make room on the counter. I grasped her hand and gently pulled her to the counter. I then reached down and unzipped her khakis. As I pushed them down, I kissed and licked all the way to her belly button. I could smell her, hell I could smell us both. The heat in the room was incredible.

I reached for more ice as I moved her against the counter. My mouth found its way unerringly to her clit and dashed out for that first incredible taste. She moaned loudly. My ice-filled hand soon followed, causing shivers to run through her body. I licked and tasted while her cries become louder and more pleading. I pushed two fingers inside fast and hard while my thumb rubbed her anus. I felt it way before she screamed and I kept licking and stroking until she begged me to stop.

The music ended and the machine was idle. We both stood. I leaned against the wall and she leaned against me. "Do you want to take your break now?" she asked quietly. I smiled and kissed her, knowing my job was getting better all the time.

The End…

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